


Gleeks and Dolls

by bluecinderella4



Category: Glee
Genre: Guys and Dolls, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecinderella4/pseuds/bluecinderella4
Summary: Plot taken from "Guys & Dolls": Needing $1000, Finn Detroit decides to bet his friend Puck that Puck can't take the morally uptight, pious "Mission Doll", Quinn with him on an upcoming trip. Meanwhile, Finn's longtime fiancee Rachel wonders if she and Finn are ever going to get married.





	1. The Horses Follow the Fold

_New York City: sometime in the 1920's_

" _If it ain't one thing, it's another."_ This was a statement that quickly became commonplace. No sooner had prohibition been put into effect that gambling was now considered a crime…

…well, it was if you got caught.

Holding an unauthorized type of betting game—namely the dice game craps—was something one had to be smart about. It was also something one needed money for. Not just for the actual games, but if you wanted a primo locale, you usually had to pay off someone to keep quiet.

And no one seemed better at setting up a crap game than Finn Detroit.

Of course "Detroit" wasn't Finn's real last name. However, if a gambling man wanted to be considered among the best of the best, he went by some sort of nickname. It wasn't that Finn's own last name was embarrassing, but one probably shouldn't use their actual name in case they got caught.

And while Finn was the best at organizing the games, he wasn't exactly the best at playing them. No, that honor went to another certain gentleman known throughout New York by one infamous moniker…

…but that's something we'll learn later on. It just needed to be clear that if you needed to hold a game, Finn Detroit was the man to get you the place.

On this particular day, Finn's right and left hand men, Kurt Nicely and Blaine Southstreet, were standing in front of a Times Square newsstand pretending to read the magazines when fellow gambler Rusty Artie wheeled over to them. "Gentlemen," he had been hiding racing reports in his inside coat pocket, "as promised."

"Nice," Kurt took two, passed one to Blaine, and began to read his copy. "Looks like Paul Revere is the one to beat."

"Paul Revere?" Blaine questioned rather incredulously

"Or Can-Do; some guy I talked to said if the weather's clear, Can-Do's a good option, so that horse is my second choice. Though the horse Likes Mud actually does like mud so if it does rain…looks like Likes Mud is my third choice." Kurt put an 'X' near the name 'Likes Mud'.

"Nah-uh; I know this guy on the morning line who has got Valentine figured five to nine. Has Chance also has a chance, so that horse is my second choice. I am not sure about Needs Race though, that one lives up to his name."

"Who was the idiot that told you about Valentine?"

"The jockey's brother."

"You are both wrong," Artie rolled closer to them. " _The Telegraph_ says that Epitaph's going to win by a half."

"Half of what?"

Artie shrugged. "But if _The Telegraph_ is picking Epitaph, then so am I."

"I thought you liked Big Threat?" Kurt asked him.

"Big Threat is my second choice. I mean it helps that that horse is the great-grandson of the famous Equipoise...according to the Feed Box noise anyway."

"You got a Plan C?" Blaine asked Artie.

Artie read over his options. "Shows Class seems like a classy bet. Not like it matters; the winner's gonna be Epitaph."

"No way, it's Valentine!"

"Paul Revere!" Kurt disagreed. "The handicapper is one of the most sincere guys I know and he says Paul Revere is no bum steer."

Artie waved his copy of the _Telegraph_ as close to Kurt and Blaine's faces as he could. "Epitaph!"

Blaine ripped a paper from the newsstand and repeatedly pointed out his choice. "Valentine!"

"Paul Revere!" Kurt continued to support his pick as he flipped to the page he was looking for and slapped his hand to indicate his choice.

"I got the horse right here!" the three gamblers chorused before they began arguing about their pick of horse.

The arguing was cut off by the approaching music from the Save-a-Soul Mission band led by tambourine player, Sergeant Quinn Fabray. Parading down the streets of New York for the Lord, Sergeant Quinn and her fellow mission members were singing what seemed like the only hymn they knew.

" _Follow the fold and stray no more_  
_Stray no more_  
_Stray no more_  
_Put down the bottle and we'll say no more_  
_Follow, follow-"_

Quinn singled out a certain drunk member of the crowd about to put his poorly disguised bottle of whiskey to his lips. " _Before you take another swallow_." The drunk ignored her rhythmic warning and left the scene drinking the whiskey.

The band resumed their singing.

" _Follow the fold and stray no more_  
_Stray no more_  
_Stray no more_  
_Tear up your poker deck and play no more_  
_Follow, follow the fold."_

Kurt and Blaine simultaneously rolled their eyes at this. Out of all the dolls (which was one of the more polite, common slang terms for "girls" or "ladies"), Quinn Fabray had to have been the least interesting. The "Mission Doll", as she was dubbed, was young, beautiful, but strictly religious and very uptight. What was a pretty young thing like that hanging around with the older, pious crowd anyway; keeping her long, blonde hair up in a high ponytail and wearing that red dress uniform that looked so unappealing on her. Quinn Fabray was nothing like Miss Rachel or the Hotbox Girls. Regardless, the men tried not to listen as the band continued to sing.

" _To the meadow_  
_Where the sun shines_  
_Out of the darkness_  
_And-"_

Quinn singled out another vagrant. "- _the sin and shame in which you wallow_." Again, the vagrant didn't care and proceeded to open a makeshift stand to sell "solid gold" watches while the band continued on.

" _Follow the fold and stray no more_  
_Stray no more_  
_Stray no more_  
_If you're a sinner and you pray no more_  
_Follow, follow the fold."_

The Sergeant stood front and center prepared for yet another one of her speeches. She passed her tambourine to the drummer, cleared her throat, and began with, "Brothers and Sisters: it is clear that you don't want to be told how unhappy you truly are, nor do you want to be told about the emptiness of your lives. You who drink too much; you who gamble at cards, or dice, or horse racing," Kurt, Blaine, and Artie could have sworn she was staring at them during that last part, "Well we at the Save-a-Soul mission can help you save your hard-earned money."

"Does she know any useful cheats?" Artie whispered among his small group.

"We will give you the strength to stop your drinking, to stop your gambling. You don't know it, but your actions attract the devil. That's why I, Quinn Fabray, or any other of my fellow mission members can help you resist the devil's temptations. We are open all day, every day-"

"WATCHES HERE!" the vagrant was acting like a carnival barker. "I GOT WATCHES HERE! ONE DOLLAR EACH!"

Still, the determined Quinn went on trying to raise her voice above a crowd now interested in watches, "-and we have a special prayer meeting this Thursday night at-"

"GET YER SOLID GOLD WATCHES HERE! ONE DOLLAR EACH!" Eager crowds gathered all around. "Don't push, there's more than enough room for everybody."

"There's more than enough room in the Kingdom of Heaven too," this time Quinn sounded somewhat defeated.

"I don't think we're getting through to them, Quinn," the drummer handed Quinn her tambourine.

"No, I don't suppose we are," she gave a dejected sigh. "Come on, let's head back to the mission."

The drummer kept his attention on the watch peddling vagrant. "I wonder if those watches really are solid gold."

"Mr. Schuester!" Quinn admonished the older man.

"I do need a new watch."

"And you'll get the best ones the honest way."

"I know, but those are a dollar," Quinn did what seemed like her trademark eyebrow raise. "Alright, Quinn," he began beating on the drum as the band paraded back to the mission.

"How do you think a doll like that ends up at a mission of all places?" Blaine inquired.

"Maybe she lost a bet," Artie suggested.

"A girl like _that_ losing a bet?"

"She has got a decent singing voice," Kurt noted. "She may also have a hot little body underneath that drab little dress she's wearing."

"She would make a nice Hotbox Girl."

Artie shifted his eyes at the two of them. "I thought you guys did not like dolls all that much?"

"Dolls are a dime a dozen, Artie," this was a subtle little confirmation on Kurt's part. "And it is the dolls we actually know that we do not like all that much."

"The ones who would get mixed us with guys like us," Blaine added.

"Though I think I am more partial to the guys than the dolls regardless."

"You and me both."


	2. Worth a Thousand in Cheesecake

"Fellas!" an excited voice called to Kurt and Blaine a short time after Artie left.

"Here comes Sammy the Mouth," it was obvious Kurt wasn't very excited.

Sammy the Mouth, a fellow gambler, was an attractive blonde with a rather wide mouth. This, coupled with the fact that sometimes Sammy said things when he shouldn't have (or had a "big mouth"), could not deny that person was anyone else but Sammy. "Hey fellas, how goes it?" Blaine gave a so-so hand gesture. "And you Kurt Nicely?"

"Nicely, nicely, thank you."

"Listen: I have to know if Finn Detroit has secured us a location for the next crap game."

"You know as much as we do. Keep in mind that Finn can be very choosy on locations."

"Plus the heat is on," Blaine added. "And it is making Finn sweat."

Sammy beckoned them closer. "I need to know fast. I am loaded and looking for action. Between us gentlemen: I have recently acquired five thousand potatoes."

"Five thousand?!" both Kurt and Blaine were rather loud in their disbelief.

"Ssh," Sammy shushed them. "And they call me the 'mouth'?"

"And how does one such as yourself acquire five thousand worth of lettuce?" Kurt questioned.

"I collected the reward on my father."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Just let me know as to when and where the game will be," with that, Sammy left.

"Seriously, what did he mean by 'collected the reward on his father'?"

Blaine didn't have the answer either, "I am kind of afraid to inquire."

Kurt straightened his tie. "Well Finn better find a place soon because Sammy is not the only one looking for action. It has become a desperate situation. This whole city is crawling with guys like Sammy, but the police are on Finn's case. Especially-"

"Lieutenant Figgins," Blaine gestured to stern looking authority figure approaching them. Quickly, he and Kurt took off their hats, "what a nice surprise. Look Kurt, it is Lieutenant Figgins of the New York City Police Department."

Figgins made some sort of noise of displeasure. "I assume one or both of you have seen Finn Detroit."

"And which Finn Detroit would that be Lieutenant?" Kurt questioned back.

"Which Finn Detroit? Your boss Finn Detroit! The Finn Detroit that runs a floating crap game."

"Is a floating crap game a game that takes place on a boat?"

"You know a floating crap game means a game of dice called 'craps' that's held in a different spot every time so the cops don't bust the game. I figured since you guys rustle up the customers, you'd be able to tell me where Finn Detroit's next crap game is."

Blaine faked a gasp. "We would never associate ourselves with someone like this Finn Detroit character."

"And a fine detective such as yourself should have no trouble finding this Finn Detroit fellow," Kurt added.

Figgins glowered at them. "If you see Detroit, tell him nobody's gonna give him a spot because they know Figgins' breathing down their necks." Figgins gave them one more glare before walking off.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged glances and put on their hats before heading into the nearby diner where they originally were planning on going. They walked toward the booth where a man was sitting with a newspaper blocking his face. "The coast is clear," Blaine announced.

Finn threw down the paper onto the table and breathed a sigh of relief. "Figgins has really turned on the heat. No one wants to help secure a place on account of that lousy cop. It is like no one wants to take a chance on me anymore."

"But you did find a place, right?" Kurt asked as he and Blaine sat. "Surely one of our usual places will take a chance on us?"

"On _us_? No."

"There has got to be some place!"

"There may be: Dave Karofsky of _Karofsky's Garage_ is willing to take a chance on me for one thousand bucks."

"A thousand bucks?"

"In advanced, and in cash. Karofsky would not even take my marker."

"Is your marker no good?" Blaine asked him.

"Of course my marker is good! A marker is more than a paper and what not; it is a pledge that no man can welch on. Welching on a marker is the eighth deadly sin."

"But apparently your marker is not good enough?"

"It is like I said: Figgins has turned up the heat and everyone is scared to take a chance on Finn Detroit." Finn began to pace. "So it is not the issue of place, it is the issue of _securing_ the place. I am broke! I'm so broke that I could not even afford to buy Rachel a present today."

"It's not Rachel's birthday," Kurt noted.

"Today is mine and Rachel's fourteenth anniversary. We have now been engaged for fourteen years today."

"Do not worry about that now," Blaine told him. "Concentrate on the crap game. The town is up to here with high rollers," Blaine gestured above the top of his hat. "The Irish is in town."

"So is Brandy Bottle Beiste," Kurt added.

"Sebastian Slim!"

Finn held up his hands in a sort of defeat. "I know! I know! I could make a fortune! But in order to make a fortune, I need a fortune. A thousand bucks! Where am I going to get it?"

"What about the regular places?"

"I tried the regular places. The back of the cigar store; the funeral parlor; they've now got a lock on the gym door at Public School Eighty-Four."

"What about the stockroom behind Giardi's Bar?"

"And run the risk of Mrs. Giardi finding out?" Blaine brought up that notion.

"Right," Finn agreed, "and with things being the way they are, I would advise against holding the game at the back of the police station."

"Looks like _Karofsky's Garage_ is the spot."

"Now we just need the one thousand bucks." He slumped in his seat. "They are all counting on 'good, ol' reliable Finn Detroit' to furnish the spot for the action regardless of how hot the heat has been turned up. A place where there are no squawking neighbors and the players can go broke in peace and quiet. How am I to disappoint the men who have been so faithful and loyal to me? I will surely die from shame if we cannot find a place to host the game." He sighed. "If we only had a lousy little grand we could be millionaires."

"Ahem," Matty the Ox had cleared his throat when he approached. Another gambler friend, Matty was the strong, silent type. That "ahem" was probably the most one would ever get out of him. When he had their attention, he slipped Finn a note.

"' _I am looking for some serious action Detroit:_ _where is the game'_?" Finn read the message aloud. "Give me a few more hours and then I will give you the information."

"Ahem," Matty passed him another note.

"' _I am not the only one'_ ," Finn (and Kurt and Blaine) looked up at Matty. "Yes, I am aware of that." Matty pointed the message. "There is more. 'He _is back in town'_." Finn dropped the paper like a hot potato. " _He_?! You don't mean-"

"Puck," should Matty the Ox speak, he would speak very, _very_ little.

"Puck Puckerman."

"The best of the best," Blaine agreed.

"Did he not bet ten C's on a cockroach once?" Kurt inquired.

"And won," Finn replied. "Let us not forget when he bet fifteen C's on one raindrop beating another raindrop down the window. Puck is the highest player of them all; why is he back in town?" Everyone (Matty included) shrugged at that. "Anyway, thanks for the warning, Matty; I shall keep you posted." Matty tipped his head and walked away quietly.

"Hey, maybe you can borrow the money from Puck!" Kurt suggested. "Are you two not good friends?"

"We still are—he is my buddy—but who has ever known Puck to _lend_ money. The only way to get a grand out of my buddy is to bet against him _and win_. And he likes the crazy bets. Like the time he did not take Penicillin because he was sure his fever would go to one hundred and four."

"Did it?" Blaine asked.

"It went to one hundred and six," Kurt explained.

Finn put his hand to his chin in thought. "Surely there must be the craziest of bets out there somewhere; one where I can bet him a thousand bucks." A waitress laid a cheesecake on the table. "Hey Zizes, I asked for a Danish."

"We ain't got Danish today; I'm bringin' you a cheesecake," she rather bitingly replied back at him. "What, you want strudel instead?"

"I do not like strudel."

"So eat the cheesecake!" she headed for the kitchen.

"I do not like cheesecake either," Finn grumbled.

Kurt seemed shocked by that. "Seriously?" he took the dessert. "Everyone loves the cheesecake here."

"They probably sell a thousand a day," Blaine agreed, "though the strudel is just as good."

"Yeah, but no one orders it as much."

Finn snapped his fingers together. "That's it! Kurt, Blaine, you guys go into the kitchen and ask how many pieces of cheesecake and strudel they sold yesterday."

"What do you want to know for?" Blaine questioned him.

"FINNY!" a high-pitched, feminine voice distracted the men.

"Just go!" Finn ordered. As Kurt and Blaine ran off to the kitchen, Finn stood in his seat. "Rachel, Baby!" he kissed his fiancée. He then waited for her to sit down before taking a seat beside her. "I thought you were still rehearsing at the Hotbox?"

"I am."

"And yet you are here."

"That Cassandra July is such a slave driver, workin' us girls all day the way she does. So I says to her, 'give us gals a break; I gotta get somethin' to eat. She looks at me all suspicious like and says, 'you don't wanna eat. You wanna get outta here so you can see that crumb-dumb boy-toy of yours'. I tell her 'no one talks about my Finn like that' and I almost gave her a swift punch in the nose."

"Why didn't you?"

"Mercedes and Tina stopped me in time. Santana was all for it though. I'm still unsure of what Brittany thought, but she usually goes along with Santana. Cassandra's wrong about you. You're no crumb-dumb; you're a wonderful guy. The most wonderful guy in all the…" Rachel had to stop so that she could sneeze.

Finn handed her his handkerchief. "Gesundheit."

"Thank you," she took it and blew her nose.

"Your cold is not getting any better?"

"It comes and goes; what with it being a chronic condition and all."

Finn noticed a certain gentlemen enter the restaurant. "You don't say," he watched Puck sit by himself at a table in the corner.

"Oh, but I do say," Rachel presented Finn with a box, "'Happy Anniversary, Finn'."

He opened the present. "Aww Rachel," he held up the brown leather belt that was inside, "that's real nice of you."

"Did you read the card?"

"Card?" he searched for a card.

"I wrote the poem myself."

Finn read her poem. "' _Sugar is sweet, and so is jelly; put my gift around your belly_.' Rachel, that is so sweet." She smiled proudly. "It makes me feel ashamed."

"Why?"

"I was going to get you a diamond wrist watch."

Rachel gasped. "Oh Finn, you shouldn't have."

"I didn't."

She tenderly rubbed his hand. "Oh, that's alright, really. You forgetting to get me a present makes me feel like we're already married."

"I'll make it up to you, Sweetheart. One of these days I'll be in the money and be so rich that you will want for nothing."

"I want for nothing now as long as I have you. Although, I wouldn't mind some money; just so long as you didn't get it by running them crap games."

"Me run a crap game? Rachel, Baby, I promised you those days were done."

Blaine hurried over to the table completely ignoring Rachel. "Twelve hundred cheesecake and fifteen hundred strudel."

"What?" of course Rachel didn't understand.

"Yesterday they sold twelve hundred cheesecake and fifteen hundred strudel," Kurt clarified as he approached, also oblivious to Rachel.

"And you are sure of this information?" Finn double checked.

"Finn, what is this all about?" Rachel questioned him.

"Those are just important business statistics."

"Detroit," Sammy the Mouth made his way over to Finn. "I'm gettin' impatient! Is there any news?"

"Not yet, Sammy." Sammy groaned and stomped off.

Rachel raised her eyebrow suspiciously to her betrothed. "And what was that about?"

"His wife is having a baby."

"So why is he asking you?"

"He's nervous; it's his first wife."

"I didn't even know Sammy was married. Gee, I hope Mercedes doesn't either."

Finn anxiously watched as Zizes laid a plate of cheesecake at Puck's table. "Listen, Rachel, I have an important businessman conference. I would ask you to stay, but this gentleman does big business."

"Like supermarket?"

" _Super_ supermarket." Rachel made a noise of intrigue. "Problem is: dolls make him nervous. Guys," he gestured to Kurt and Blaine, "would you be so kind as to hail Rachel a taxi so that she gets back to rehearsal?"

"But the Hotbox is only a block or two away."

"I will not risk your health walking by having you walk these dirty streets of New York."

"Oh Finn, you're so thoughtful."

"Well, did he think about who is going to pay the cab fare?" Kurt questioned.

"I can afford my own cab, thank you. You two may now hail me a taxi."

"I am taking no chances," Finn snapped his fingers and Kurt and Blaine each picked Rachel up at her side and headed out of the diner. "Kurt and Blaine will see that you get safely into your cab."

"You're so good to me, Finn." Kurt and Blaine held her forward so that she could kiss her man. "Okay fellas," Kurt and Blaine escorted Rachel out of the diner while Finn headed over to talk "business" with his buddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record: the Irish is supposed to be Rory Flanagan. I tried to use the Glee guys I could think of so I replaced "The Greek" with "The Irish" and Rory is Irish. Coach Beiste and Sebastian Smythe are the other two mentioned gamblers. Dave Karofsky is the owner of a garage and the Giardis are supposed to be Terri's sister Kendra and Kendra's husband, Phil. Sam Evans and Matt Rutherford—the quiet, black football glee clubber from season 1 only—were the other two we actually met. Plus Mercedes, Tina, Santana, Brittany, and Casandra July work at the Hotbox with Rachel.


	3. Polka-Dots and Cider

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that my good buddy, Mr. Puckerman?" Finn greeted as he approached Puck's table.

"As I live and breathe," Puck rose to hug his friend. "Finn Detroit you ol' son of a gun."

"I did not expect to see you in New York."

"I just got back from Vegas. Sit down, let's catch up."

"Are you sure? You are in no hurry or anything?"

"My old man says the only time a man should be in a hurry is when the police are climbing up the stairs," Finn sat across from his friend. "Speaking of the police: I received word that Lieutenant Figgins has really turned up the heat."

"Eh, it is nothing I cannot handle. But enough about Figgins: how was Vegas?"

Puck smirked. "Paradise, my good man; two whole weeks of paradise. For two weeks I gambled in green pastures. The dice were like family and the dolls…" Puck let out a sly snicker at the thought, "…the dolls had no last names and their first names did not matter either. So you can see why Vegas was a paradise. It is not like I am knocking New York though. Do not misunderstand: I am happy to be back in good old NYC."

"And I am sure you would be happy eating the finest dessert this place has to offer. Might I interest you in a piece of cheesecake or some strudel?"

"No thanks, I already ate."

"Perhaps later then."

"I will not be in town long. Tomorrow I will be flying to Havana."

"Havana, Cuba?"

"What other Havana is there worth going to?"

Finn noticed the piece of cheesecake Zizes had left at Puck's table. "You say that you ate and yet I see this cheesecake remains uneaten."

"So help yourself if you want some."

"You know I do not like cheesecake."

Puck shrugged and moved on to a new topic of discussion. "How is Rachel?"

"Fine, fine."

"I suppose one of these days you two will be getting married?"

"We all gotta go sometime."

"It is not like we guys can't fight it or anything. Granted the companionship of a doll is a pleasant thing, but only for a brief period of time. A doll cannot take the place of aces back to back."

"Nor can they take the place of what I am sure is the greatest cheesecake sold in this fine establishment that you have not eaten."

"Yes, I am partial to it."

"And yet others prefer the strudel to the cheesecake."

"It is my understanding that the United States Constitution allows everybody the freedom of choice between cheesecake and strudel. Why are you taking a peculiar interest in the cheesecake?"

"Because every time I am here, I notice that more people are indulging themselves in the cheesecake. This is a dessert _you_ are also quite taken with. So offhand, do you think this place sells more cheesecake than strudel?"

"If we were basing off my own personal preference, I would say more cheesecake than strudel."

"For how much?"

"What?"

"For how much?"

Puck seemed to get it. "Finn Detroit, I never knew you to lay money on the line."

"A thousand bucks says that yesterday this place sold more strudel than cheesecake!"

"Finn, let me tell you a story."

"Does it involve whether or not we have a bet?"

"The day I left home to make my way in the world, my old man took me aside. 'Son', he says to me, 'I am sorry that I am not able to bankroll you to a very large start. I do not have anything of value to offer except this advice'—like that deadbeat ever gave me anything anyway. Still, my old man tells me, 'one of these days in your travels a guy is going to show you a brand new deck of cards on which the seal is not yet broken. Then this guy is going to offer to bet you that he can make the Jack of Spades jump out of the deck and squirt cider in your ear. Do not accept this bet because as sure as you stand there, you are gonna end up with an earful of cider'. Now Finn, I do not suggest you have been clocking the cheesecake."

"Would I do such a thing?"

"However, if you are really looking for some action," Puck then leaned across the table and covered Finn's bowtie, "I will bet you the same thousand that you cannot name the color tie you have on." It was obvious from Finn's expression what the answer was. "Have we got a bet?"

Finn sighed and shook his head. "No bet." When Puck removed his hand, Finn ripped his tie off. " _Polka-dots_?! Only a guy like me could blow a thousand on _polka-dots_!" Ashamed, he buried his face in his hands.

"Hey Puck," Blaine greeted as he and Kurt approached the table.

"Hiya Southstreet," Puck greeted. "Nicely, you look well. How goes it?"

"Nicely-nicely, thank you," Kurt answered him before turning to Finn. "What's the matter with Finn? He looks sick."

"A temporary disorder; the cheesecake backed up on him."

Blaine gave a casual shrug. "Maybe that's why they sold more strudel than cheesecake." In response, Finn let out what sounded like an agonized moan.

"Anyway," Kurt brought back focus, "Rachel gave us a message for you, Finn. She wants you to pick her up at the Hotbox after the show, and _don't be late_."

"Yes, Dear," Finn replied. "I mean okay."

"' _Yes, Dear'_?" Puck gave some sort of chuckle. "That is husband talk if I ever heard it. Finn my boy, you are trapped. And Rachel is the type of doll that is most difficult to unload."

Finn looked up at Puck. "I don't want to unload her, I love her! A guy without a doll…" Finn paused, unsure where he was going with that as the faint sounds of the mission band could be heard in the background, "…well if a guy does not have a doll who would holler on him? A doll is a necessity."

"It is not like I'm knocking the dolls, I love 'em too; but dolls are just somethin' to have around at your convenience, like cough drops. A guy can have his pick of the litter of any doll."

"Not dolls like Rachel."

"All dolls are pretty much the same anyway."

As the music of the mission band got louder, an idea seemed to form in Finn's mind. "All dolls are the same, huh?" Puck agreed with that. "Well, it would seem a doll would come in handy for something like a trip to Havana. And yet, you are going to Havana alone, without a doll."

"It's a matter of choice. I am choosing to travel alone, but if I wish to take a doll with me the supply is unlimited."

"But not high class dolls."

"A doll is a doll. All dolls, any doll, you name her."

"Okay: will you bet a thousand bucks that if I name any doll, you can take that same doll with you to Havana?" He held out his hand…

…which Puck shook. "You got yourself a bet."

When they stopped shaking hands, Finn led Puck to the window where the mission band had situated outside collecting for charity. As soon as the sergeant came into view, Finn proudly pointed to her. "I name her."

Puck's eyes widened. " _Her_?"

"Sergeant Quinn Fabray of the Save-a-Soul Mission." A disbelieved Puck watched her for a moment before putting his hand to his ear. "Why Puck," Finn "innocently" began, "whatever is the matter?"

"I got cider in my ear."


	4. The Sinner and the Saint Will Know

Quinn Fabray sighed mournfully as she stared out of the large window. It was quite a contrast seeing the full streets of New York from the empty mission room she was standing in, save for Will Schuester fiddling with a watch he recently purchased. "I don't think you can bend a solid gold watch like that," a thought occurred to Will. "Do solid gold watches even bend?" He noticed Quinn staring out the window rather melancholy. "What's the matter, Quinn?"

"I'm the matter," she replied. "It's not the mission failing, it's me. It has to be. I'm doing something wrong or else the mission would have more visitors." Another sigh. "I guess the best thing to do would be for me to resign and go back to Ohio." She looked at Will. "And no, you can't bend solid gold watches."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he tossed the watch into the wastebasket. "I'm curious: would you really be able to accomplish more if you went back to Ohio?"

"I just don't understand it: everyone says New York City is crawling with sinners and we have an empty mission to show for it."

"Exactly! There are too many sinners. You can't expect them all to come barging through the doors begging for salvation."

"I'd be lucky to get even one."

A knock at the door. Quinn and Will turned to the door to realize it was open and someone was standing in the open doorway. That someone was Puck. When he got their attention, Puck took off his hat. "Do you take sinners here?"

"At any time, day or night," Will ushered Puck inside and set his hat on the nearby hat rack. "Welcome to the Save-a-Soul Mission. I'm Brother Will," Will gestured to Quinn, "and this is Sister Quinn."

Quinn nodded her head toward the visitor. "How do you do?"

Puck acknowledged her nod with his own nod. "Brother Puck."

" _Puck_? Is that your Christian name?"

"I am Jewish."

Before Quinn could speak, Will cut her off by telling Puck, "Everyone is welcome here regardless of their race, religion, or background."

"To satisfy any curiosity, Puck is a shortened version of my last name. I figured I would be more comfortable with you calling me Brother Puck than Mr. Puckerman."

"What is it that troubles you, Brother Puck?"

Quinn made the comment, "I doubt Mr. Puckerman is in need of money."

"Brother Puck, please," Puck advised her. "I am not here in need for my health is good, and I am in no financial trouble."

"So I've heard."

"Ah, my reputation precedes me."

"Then why are you here, Mr. Puckerman?"

"Brother Puck."

" _Brother Puck_. You are one of the more successful of the New York sinners; what brings you to our establishment?"

"I am here because my heavy gambling has left me rather unhappy. I have been trying to gather up the courage for some time to seek help. Perhaps if I did not resign myself with evil companions who were always offering me sucker bets I would not-"

"What are sucker bets?"

"Bets that are reserved for suckers, and I do not mean like candy suckers. And to lose such a bet gets one marked as a chump for a very long time."

"Is that so bad?"

"To me and my associates, it is like losing your citizenship. A chump is an outsider; someone who will buy anything with varnish on it."

Quinn quirked her brow to Will. "Like someone who will buy a solid gold watch for a dollar?"

"Now _that_ is a real chump."

Will nervously cleared his throat. "I can see this is something you have under control, Sergeant." He put his arm around Puck's shoulder. "Brother Puck, you keep on talking to Sister Quinn; whatever your problems are, she'll have the solutions."

"I hope so."

"I know so. I'm real glad that you found us."

"' _Seek and ye shall find_ '."

"I wish we could reach more sinners like you. We go out every day and-"

"If I may repay you with some advice: perhaps you would have better luck if you went out at nighttime."

"Really?"

"As a hopefully former sinner I happen to know that the best time to find fellow sinners is between midnight and sunrise."

"Well thank you for the advice, Brother Puck. Hopefully we could put it to good use," Will went into a back room and left Brother Puck alone with Sister Quinn.

"Here," following a bout of awkward silence, Quinn went behind the desk, opened a drawer, and took out some pamphlets, "if you are sincerely interested in giving up gambling then I suggest you read those."

Puck took a pamphlet and threw it aside. "I have no use for learning things by reading. Besides, how is reading supposed make anyone want to give up anything?"

"Then maybe you should come to our midnight prayer meeting this Thursday so that-"

"Thursday is the day after tomorrow; how am I supposed to get help until then?" He moved closer, and she backed away. "I was actually hoping for a little more _personal_ help." Quinn looked away. "Should I seek help elsewhere?" She nervously bit her lip. "Because I am getting the feeling that you do not want to help me."

She faced him. "That is because I don't trust you."

"You do not believe I am a sinner?"

"Oh, I believe you're a sinner."

"Yet you do not believe that I want to repent. Did it ever occur to you that some people can be all repentance and no sin?" Quinn turned away from him. "I may start my own chain of missions to help your kind. Come all ye repenters and let us bring a little sin into your life." Puck made some sort of "hmm" noise and looked around as if he was inspecting the place. "That's wrong you know."

Quinn turned and looked at him. "I beg your pardon."

Puck held up the card displaying the biblical quote. "Your thought for the day: ' _there is no peace to the wicked_ '. That part is right," he pointed to what it said underneath, "this part is wrong."

"Excuse you?"

"You have the quote listed under _Proverbs_ , but this quote is not _Proverbs_."

"It is too _Proverbs_!"

"Oh I get it, you are the type of doll who cannot stand being wrong," he smirked at her, "and yet you are wrong." She stomped over to the Bible stand nearby. " _Isaiah_ , chapter fifty-seven, verse twenty-one, if I am not mistaken." Quinn flipped through the book toward the designated verse. "We could bet on it if you'd like. Not money, but just a nice sociable bet." He noticed Quinn's face begin to falter in defeat. " _Isaiah_?"

" _Isaiah,_ " she rather bitingly uttered back. Puck had on that same cocky smirk as he let out a small chuckle and gave a nonchalant shrug. "How on earth did you-"

He sauntered over and leaned over the Bible. "Two things that have been in every hotel room imaginable are me and the Gideon Bible. I don't very much care for reading, but when you are trapped in a hotel room with nothing to do, then you read over the Good Book a dozen or so times."

"So you've read the Bible?"

"I _can_ read."

"I wasn't implying you couldn't. It just baffles me that you've read through the Bible on more than one occasion, and yet it was no help to you."

"Well, one time I won five G's on a parlay thanks Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego."

Quinn angrily closed the book on his hands making him wince. "Why are you here?"

"I told you, I am a sinner."

"And I say you are a liar."

"Is lying not also a sin?" With a huff, she stormed away. "I am not lying when I say this mission is laying an egg. That means that-"

"I've heard that expression before; but that doesn't mean your statement holds any truth."

"Then how come it is empty?" Humiliated, Quinn said nothing in response. "I have a proposition for you."

"I'm not interested."

"Not that kind of proposition; this is more of a business transaction." She flashed him a suspicious look. "I am going to help you fill this place up with sinners."

"Are you?"

He took a pen off the desk and began to write on the back of the 'Thought for the Day' card. "I can guarantee you one dozen, genuine sinners for your midnight prayer meeting."

"How?"

"You let me worry about the how."

"And what do I have to do in return; within reason of course."

"I think accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night sounds reasonable."

"That's all you want? Dinner? Why?"

"Because I'll be hungry," he handed her the card. "Keep that, it's my marker."

"Your what?"

"My I-O-U to supply you with the one dozen sinners. You go with me to dinners, I will bring you the sinners."

" _Dinners_?"

"I tried for a rhyme scheme, but it did not work out so good." Quinn couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "Now see, that got a smile out of ya." She blushed a little. "You should smile more often; it makes you more attractive."

She quickly cleared her throat. " _One_ dinner, Mr. Puckerman."

"That is all I ask."

"Alright, one dinner."

He clapped his hands together. "Hallelujah!" This caused her to roll her eyes. "I'll come pick you up tomorrow at noon so that-"

" _Noon_? To go to _dinner_?"

"It takes time to get there."

"To where?"

"To my favorite restaurant: _El Café Cabana_."

" _El Café Cabana_? Where's that?"

"Havana."

Her eyes widened. "Havana, _Cuba_?"

"You know any other Havanas?"

"You want to take me to dinner in _Havana, Cuba_?"

"They eat in Cuba same as we do."

"You must be out of your mind!"

"You want to fill the mission, I can help you do that. All I ask in return is that you-"

"Get out!" Quinn angrily pointed to the door.

"Fine," he grabbed his hat, "but I am not going to walk out of here with you thinking I was making advances toward you or anything. Any sinful thoughts present at this time are comin' from you, not me."

"Is this some sort of new approach the men use nowadays?"

"And how would you know if it was or was not?" He inched closer to her. "Am I to assume other men have tried to court our virtuous sergeant?"

"I bet you think I'm one of those repressed, neurotic girls who are attracted to sin, but yet afraid of it. Well, you wouldn't be the first man to think so."

"I wouldn't, huh?"

"No."

"So there have been other admirers before?"

"Yes."

"And I assume they were not good enough for you." Puck leaned against the desk as he paused in thought. "This makes me wonder what he will be like."

"Who?"

"The guy you end up with; the fella who sweeps you off your feet; the knight in shining armor coming to your rescue. What will he be like?"

"He will not be a gambler."

"I am not interested in what he _will not_ be. I am curious to know what he _will_ be. How will you know when you find him?"

"Don't worry; I'll know."

"And _how_ will you know? What will he be like?"

"Well," Quinn considered this, "he'll be strong and handsome, romantic and smart, he'll have a strong moral fiber, and he'll be a hard-working, honest man."

Puck faked a yawn. "Sounds interesting; I bet he will eat breakfast in his fancy suit on his way to the office." Quinn folded her arms across her chest. "You got this guy all figured out, huh?" She nodded. "Does such a man exist?"

"I'm certain he does, and when I find him, I won't take any chances. Him and that calm, steady voice," she soon got lost in her thoughts, "standing there with his arms wide open, I'll run into them. And I'll feel safe; it'll be home." Quinn then came back to reality; clearing her throat and smoothing her dress. "I was always told 'good things come to those who wait'. So I will wait for him as long as it takes. And when I find him, I'll know."

"No, no, no; you cannot plan these things when it comes to love."

"What do you know about love?"

"I consider myself somewhat knowledgeable on the subject of love."

"Do you?"

"Love is something you can't plan. Like when it comes to my love. Mine will come as a surprise to me. As for when I meet her: I will leave that up to chance and chemistry."

" _Chemistry_?"

"Yeah, _chemistry_ : it's another name for the interactive bond people share in a respective relationship. I think chemistry is rather important in a relationship."

"I suppose."

Puck began to approach her, "And I'll know when I see her face and I…" when he finally got a good look at Quinn, he lost the ability to speak.

"And you what?"

He stared directly, intently into her eyes, "...and I just stop and stare because she is so beautiful that I have forgotten how to speak." They continued to stare at each other for a moment. "Not that it matters anyway. When I am with her, I won't need words." He placed her hand on his chest. "My heart will tell me she is the one."

Quinn could feel his heart practically pounding in his chest. "What is your heart telling you now?"

"That it's gonna burst if I don't kiss you."

"If you-" he cut her off by embracing her in his arms and fiercely pressing his lips to hers. Quinn tried to resist at first, but she sound found herself giving in as the kiss grew deeper, his hands traveling smoothly up and down her back.

Puck eventually pulled away to catch his breath, leaving a dazed Quinn standing there. Picking up his hat and heading for the door, he was surprised when Quinn began to approach him. Expecting another kiss, Puck was surprised when she slapped him across the face. Hard. "Yes, well," he put on his hat, "that just made it necessary for me to drop by again. _Matthew 5:39_. Don't bother looking it up; it's the bit about the other cheek."

With a growl, Quinn slammed the door in his face. Fuming over to the desk, she picked up Puck's marker and threw it into the trash. Then, for whatever reason, she changed her mind. Sitting the card on the desk, she took a pen, crossed out the _Proverbs_ part, and corrected the mistake. Afterwards, she flipped the card over and read Puck's messy handwriting.

_I-O-U 12 jenuine siners-Puck_

And for another reason that was unclear to her, she let out a small laugh; the thought of Puck making her smile.

"Quinn?" when she heard Mr. Schuester coming in, she quickly discarded the card into the desk drawer and composed herself. "I heard the door; how'd it go?"

"Nothing happened!" Will shot her a confused look. "I mean, it went nowhere."

"Sure sounded like it."

"Well it was a waste of time and I hope we won't be seeing Mr. Puckerman again."

"Uh-huh," Will went over to the table of coffee and doughnuts, took a napkin, and handed it to Quinn.

This time, Quinn was the one with the confused look. "What's this for?"

"You smeared your lipstick."


	5. Lies and Laments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: When it's singing, italic is Rachel, bold are the Hotbox Girls, and bold italic are all the girls together.

" _And now for the grand finale of our 'Around the World Revue': we take you down on the farm with Rachel Berry and the Hotbox Farmerettes."_

The curtain rose to reveal a farm landscape. The Hotbox Girls (Mercedes, Tina, Santana, and Brittany) were standing in front of the fake barn wearing short denim shorts, low cut, red gingham shirts that were tied at the midriff, some rather fashionable, brown cowgirl boots, and cheap, floppy straw hats atop their braided heads. They did their own little miniature dance routine before Rachel exited the barn a little more covered than the rest of the girls in her pretty little pink gingham dress and ribbon-tied pigtails—at the moment anyway, of course the clothes were going to come off at some point.

"But that doesn't make me a stripper," Rachel had tried to explain to Finn before. "Just because I take off my clothes don't mean I take off _all_ of my clothes. It's more of a strip _tease_."

As if that was supposed to make Finn feel better.

But oh well; money was money and Rachel was earning a lot of it. Who was Finn to complain? And with the exception of Cassandra July, Rachel enjoyed her job and was happy singing and dancing. She thrived on applause. So what difference did it make if she had to remove a few articles of clothing while she sang? She was still singing, wasn't she?

" _I love you, a bushel and a peck_  
_A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck_  
_A hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap_  
_A barrel and a heap and I'm talkin' in my sleep_  
_About you"_

" **About you"**

" _Oh, about you"_

" **My heart is leapin'  
I'm havin' trouble sleepin'"**

"' _Cause I love you, a bushel and a peck  
You bet your pretty neck I do"_

 _**"Doodle oodle oodle** _  
_**Doodle oodle oodle** _  
_**Doodle oodle ooh do do"** _

The ladies did another one of their dances during the short instrumental.

" _ **I love you, a bushel and a peck  
A bushel and a peck, oh it beats me all to heck"**_

" _Beats me all to heck how I'll ever tend the farm_  
_Ever tend the farm when I wanna keep my arms_  
_About you"_

" **About you"**

" _Oh, about you"_

" **The cows and chickens**  
**Are goin' to the dickens"**

"' _Cause I love you, a bushel and a peck  
You bet your pretty neck I do"_

Now came the point of the dance when the clothes started to come off. When Rachel excitedly cried, "He loves me," Santana and Mercedes removed the right hair ribbon. At Rachel's over-pouted, "He loves me not," Brittany and Tina removed the left hair ribbon so Rachel's hair was fully down. "He loves me," was the cue for Mercedes and Santana to lower the right sleeve poof on Rachel's shoulder. "He loves me not," that meant Tina and Brittany would lower the left sleeve poof. Then there was a musical pause so that Rachel herself removed the rest of her dress to reveal her short denim shorts, a low cut, pink gingham shirt that was tied at the midriff, and some rather fashionable, white cowgirl boots. Following a few seconds of hoots and hollers, Rachel would proudly hold her arms up and proclaim, "HE LOVES ME!"

All of the girls danced their way into a line. They bent over a little and singled out various patrons by pointing to them as Rachel began to sing.

" _And I love you, a bushel and a peck  
You bet your pretty neck I do"_

 _ **"Doodle oodle oodle**_  
_**Doodle oodle oodle**_  
_**Doodle oodle"**_

Rachel waved to the audience. "Goodbye now."

" _ **Ooh do do!"**_

When the girls did their final poses, the (male portion of the) audience gave them a standing ovation—in addition to some hoots, hollers, wolf whistles, and suggestive comments. The girls blew them all goodbye kisses and ran backstage.

…

Waiting backstage in Rachel's dressing room, was Finn. During the performance, Finn had been back there using her phone for "business".

"That is why I will not be able to watch your show tonight, Doll," he had told her earlier. "I will be conversing with the supermarket businessman over the telephone to finalize all the details. But I will offer you my full support and well-wishes from back here where I will be waiting."

To which Rachel assured him that was okay and gave him a great big smooch on the cheek.

So there Finn stood near the dressing room door having his "business" conversation with a certain Dave Karofsky.

"I need to talk with you about…" Finn made sure no one was around before lowering his voice, "…about the crap game."

It was clear something was going on in the background at _Karofsky's Garage_. " _THE WHAT_?"

"ABOUT THE-"

" _Hang on, I'm with a customer."_

"Well hurry it up, will you." Finn flinched when the sounds of gunshots were heard on the other end, followed by the slamming of a car trunk.

" _Now, what were you sayin', Detroit_?"

"THE CRAP GAME," Finn didn't realize how loud he was being.

" _Ssh_ ," Karofsky shushed, " _suppose the cops are listenin' over the phone_."

"Sorry. I just wanted to see if we still had our arrangement for tomorrow night."

" _Depends, are you still broke_?"

"I promise I will have the thousand tomorrow."

" _Will you, Detroit_?"

"It is certain. I made a thousand dollar bet with Puck that I know he cannot win."

"The _Puck_?"

"Of course _that_ Puck. I bet him that he could not a certain doll with him to Havana tomorrow."

" _Havana, Cuba_?"

"No, Havana, Kentucky. Yes, Havana, Cuba!"

" _Look, if you're gonna have an attitude with me, Detroit_ -"

"But Dave, I need to have the game there!"

" _And I need the thousand bucks, in cash and in advanced_."

"I guarantee you will get it. Would I lie to you?"

" _Yes_."

Finn tugged on his collar, Karofsky was right. "Well, trust me on this: Puck Puckerman cannot take this doll to Havana with him."

" _I_ don't _trust you; that's why I need the money in advanced or you're not gonna have your game tomorrow night_."

"Dave, we've known each other for a long time-"

" _Hence me not trusting you_."

"-but I _do_ come through in the end. You just gotta give me a little time to spread the word to the other guys."

" _You can spread the word_ after _I get my grand_. _Though_ _I will admit, despite the lying, you do come through in the end_. _So_ _I'll give you 'til tomorrow morning_."

"But I won't get it until tomorrow afternoon!"

" _Then you better start looking for another spot_ ," there was a thud on Karofsky's end. " _I gotta go; I have another customer_." Dave hung up.

Finn slammed the phone down. "Lousy, rotten, no good…" he was too mad to think up insults. "I would wish that his garage would go up in flames but not only would I not have a spot for the game, he would most certainly collect the insurance money. Well…I hope he gets hit by a Studebaker or somethin'." As he heard the girls in the hall, Finn quickly dashed for a chair and picked up the nearby book as if he had been reading it.

"Finny!" Rachel gave Finn a kiss as she entered her dressing room. "You're still waiting for me."

"I told you I would."

"I like seeing you waiting for me like this; like we were married and I was coming home from work. You wouldn't stop making me work, would you, Finny-Kins?"

Finn tried not to cringe at her pet name for him. "Of course not, my darling, that would be cruel. Especially with the money you are making now."

"You're so sweet," she sat in front of her mirror. "I noticed you were reading my book. I told you reading don't make people go blind." There was a pause in the conversation. "It's very interesting isn't it?"

"What is?" It dawned on him what they were talking about. "Oh, the book!"

"The doctor gave it to me; he thought it might help get rid of my cold. He thinks my cold could be caused by psychology."

"How does he know you got psychology?"

"Everybody's got psychology! If you'd like, I'll ask the doctor to give you a male psychology book."

"Are you telling me I was sitting here reading a _female_ psychology book?"

Rachel giggled at that before she began brushing her hair. "So I got some news."

Finn, meanwhile, was now skimming through the psychology book. "Do you?"

"Starting next week, I'll be getting a raise."

"Does this book show any psychology in a doll's chest area?"

"Finn, are you even-" Rachel stopped when she felt a sneeze coming on.

"Gesundheit."

"Anyway, I'll be making enough money so that we can finally get married."

Finn got up and wrapped his arms around her. "Rachel, Honey, of course we will get married…sooner or later."

"Finn, after fourteen years it's already too late to be sooner. And if it gets much later, soon it will be too late even to be later." She sneezed.

"Gesundheit."

"Besides," she got up to change, "I don't know what to do anymore about your mother."

"What about my mother?"

"I don't know if you know, but your mother and I have been corresponding for a while now—since she moved to Rhode Island. Anyway, she thinks we're already married."

"How could she think such a thing?"

"Maybe because…well, you see…I wrote and told her we were already married."

"That would make her think so."

"Fourteen years is a long time to be engaged! People in Rhode Island don't wait that long to get married; they just get married."

"Then how come Rhode Island is such a small state?" Finn sat down.

"Anyway, she first wrote a couple of months after the wedding asking if we could come see her. We were both busy at the time, so I told her that wouldn't be a good idea in my condition."

"What condition were you referring to?"

"Well, _I_ was talking about my cold; but your mother thought I was talking about…"

He prompted for her to go on. "About?"

"…a baby."

Startled, Finn fell out of his seat. "A baby?!" He wobbled onto his feet. "You wrote my mother that we had a _baby_?"

"I had to! She was so excited about becoming a grandmother that I didn't want to break her heart."

"So we have a baby?"

"I guess so."

"What type baby was it?"

Rachel smiled. "A boy; I named him after you."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"And what has Finn Jr been doing all these years?"

"Right now he's in boarding school. A few days ago I wrote your mother that he won last Saturday's football game."

"I wish I had a bet on it."

Rachel finished tying her robe. "Finn, that isn't really all."

"Don't tell me we also have a Rachel Jr?"

"All those years, Finn! Plus your mother believes in big families."

"I suppose that is why I am an only child." Finn sighed. "Just give me the grand total."

Rachel held up her hand and choked out a pitiful, "Five."

"You lied to my mother about us having _five_ kids? How could you do such a thing to a nice old broad like my mother?"

"Well when we get married I'll tell her the truth."

"Okay, Rachel: we will get married when we are ready." Rachel swatted his shoulder. "Hey!"

"We've been ready for _fourteen years_! All we need is a license and a blood test."

"Blood test?!"

"It's the law."

Finn snapped his fingers in defeat. "What a city! First they close my crap game, then they open my veins."

"Crap game?" Oops. "Finn, you told me you gave up the crap game."

"I did, Sweetheart, for you! I gave it up because I love you."

"Oh, Finn!" Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Rachel," the couple pulled apart as Mercedes entered the dressing room, "you got some earrings I can borrow?"

Rachel handed her a pair of earrings she had sitting on her vanity. "Mercedes, it is customary to knock when a lady is entertaining a gentleman caller."

Mercedes glared at Finn. "I don't see any gentlemen here." She folded her arms across her chest. "Where do you get off saying my boyfriend, Sammy has a wife?" Finn's eyes nervously darted across the room. "And then you turn Tina into a blubbering mess because Society Mike broke off their big date tomorrow for that crap game you're holding." _Busted_. She directed her attention to Rachel. "Thank you for the earrings, Rachel," she marched out with a huff.

When he saw how furious Rachel was getting, Finn instantly got down on his knees. "Rachel, Baby, I'm down on my knees."

"Oh, get up!" Rachel tried not to cry. "It reminds me of your crap game."

"Rachel, Doll," Rachel sneezed, "—gesundheit—Rachel, you're getting yourself upset about nothing." Another sneeze. "Gesundheit. It's a game a set up a long time ago that I couldn't get out of." She sneezed again, so he handed her a tissue. "Rachel, we love each other and we are going to get married."

"I don't believe you anymore. Now go on, get out of my life, Finn Detroit!"

Finn picked himself off the floor, took his hat off the rack, and headed for the exit. "I knew you'd understand."

"AH-CHOO!"

"Gesundheit," Finn closed the door behind him when he left.

Angry, Rachel stomped over to the vanity to get herself a tissue. She plopped herself onto the chair to blow her nose. Not too long after that, Rachel retrieved her female psychology book. She flipped to the section she had dog-eared and read it aloud.

"The average, unmarried female basically insecure due to some long frustration may react with psychosomatic symptoms difficult to endure affecting the upper respiratory tract."

She processed what she had just read. "So in other words: just for waiting fourteen years for him to put a ring on my finger, I developed a cold. All those nasal sprays and shots were for nothin'!" She glanced down at the book.

"The female remaining single, constantly in suspense, shows a neurotic tendency (see note)."

"See note?" confused, it soon dawned on her what it meant. "Oh, read that little paragraph over here."

"Note: Chronic, organic syndromes (toxic or hyper-tense) involving the eye, the ear, the nose, and the throat."

Rachel paused to consider that. "I guess that means that because I worried so much about whether or not we were going to have a wedding, I developed a cough. The Vitamin A, the Bromo Fizz, them other medicines, they just don't work." She made some irritated noise. "They all tell me to leave that crumb-dumb, that he's no good for me, but I stay. Maybe I should let Daddy fix me up with Jesse St. James—Jesse is the son of the hotel owner so he's got money. Only problem is, I love Finn." Rachel swooned as she thought about Finn. "My sweet, wonderful Finn who every year takes me on the train to Niagara in those air conditioned compartments and…" her sweet mood suddenly turned sour… "and then gets off at Yonkers Racetrack _fourteen times in a row_! That's probably how I developed that La Grippe thing with the wheezes, the sneezes, and the sinus issues. I guess that Finn Detroit _isn't_ good for my health. That…that…AH-CHOO!"

And she could hear Finn's voice in her head responding, " _Gesundheit_."


	6. When a Guy has Faith in Love

Kurt Nicely and Blaine Southstreet were enjoying a coffee outside their favorite coffee shop the following morning when they observed a sight that should have been rather peculiar. Parading down the street playing " _Follow the Fold_ " was the Save-a-Soul mission band led by Sergeant Quinn. Following the mission band, was Puck. When the band stopped to sing, so did Puck. It was clear that Quinn noticed Puck, and once she stopped singing, everyone else took notice. As the irate Quinn went to tell Puck off, he quickly gestured to the cheek she did not slap. She shot Puck a quick "death glare"—a name the guys used whenever she angrily stared someone down—and led the mission band away, Puck following behind.

"Did you see that look she gave him?" Kurt asked his comrade. "One hundred percent, pure hatred." The two laughed.

"That thousand bucks is pretty much in our pocket now," Blaine agreed. "There is no way Puck is taking that doll to Havana."

"I doubt Puck could even take that girl across the street."

"Hey, where's Finn? I have not seen him this morning. He should be spreading the word about the game, making all the necessary arrangements, and all that good stuff."

"Yeah, well Rachel's mad at him again and that is distracting Finn from doing what he needs to do"

"It is a shame that a businessman like Finn had to go and fall in love with his own fiancée."

"Dolls are a weakness, Blaine."

"A worldwide weakness, Kurt."

"It's just like this show I saw last night at the Roxy. Some Minnesota Joe—ironically, that was the character's name—this Joe falls in love with some Mississippi girl and he sacrifices everything and moves all the way to Biloxi."

"Yeah, well at least that ain't real-life."

"The sad fact of the matter is that it _could_ be real life."

"You know what I read about in the Daily News?" Kurt shook his head. "One of them dopey filler stories about some guy who proposed to his lady friend with a small ruby that he paid for with his union dues."

"Oof; I hope she accepted his proposal."

"If she didn't, it would not be in the paper."

"True," Kurt let out a wistful kind of sigh. "Poor suckers have been taken prisoners of love."

"And Finn is just another sorry victim." Blaine and Kurt watched as scrawny man in glasses struggled to carry what looked like a dozen shopping bags and boxes for the pretty girl in fox fur that he was following. "Poor, poor sucker."

"You see it everywhere: the starry eyed guy promising his doll everything under the sky…"

"…the John waiting out in the rain for the Jane…"

"…the gent paying a fortune in rent for one of them fancy places that could rival the Taj Mahal."

"You are one of the only men I know who appreciates fine things like the Taj Mahal."

"Tragic, isn't it."

"You also got your Average Joes saving up all their money to buy their ladies fancy minks or pearls or something expensive. If a sport is broke, it is because he has blown his money on some dame."

"This also applies to the Average Joes with no money. They would do the same thing, would they not?"

"Unfortunately, they would. The lazy slobs would get off their bums and get jobs where they come home smelling like Vitalis or Barbasol."

"And you are always bound to hear about some poor schlub getting sent to the clink because he get busted committin' some petty crime so. What is his excuse?"

"'But officer, I did it out of love'," both Kurt and Blaine said in unison.

Blaine tsked at that. "I do not know whether it is sad or funny."

Kurt seemed to agree, "Either way, a guy is only doing it for some doll."

…

Meanwhile, the band had returned to the mission without their one-man entourage behind them. Still, Quinn looked around to be sure before she went inside with the others. "Seems as though we've finally gotten rid of our annoying shadow."

"I don't know, Quinn," Will had the opposite feeling, "it seems like you didn't give him enough of a chance. He was waiting here this morning, and following us all afternoon. Brother Puck must show _some_ interest."

"Yes, but not in our work."

A small laugh escaped Will. "Ah, I understand."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"It must be something or you wouldn't have said anything."

"Well, I just had a feeling since yesterday."

"A feeling about what?"

Before Will could answer, fellow mission member Joe burst outside. "Guys, the General's here."

"General Pillsbury?"

Quinn and Will hurried inside where a red-headed woman about Will's age was standing at the desk. "Hello Quinn, Will."

"Emma," Will took off his hat in her presence, "this is a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?"

Emma cleared her throat. "I'm afraid I'm not here for a pleasant visit."

"Let me guess: _another_ meeting at headquarters?"

Emma was trying not to smile. "I was asked to informally go and check on some of our outposts. I must say: I was rather surprised to find this mission unattended; particularly in a location so… _unsavory_."

"I'm sorry General," Quinn apologized before continuing on, "but you really shouldn't be so surprised. We've sent you our records. We don't seem to get anyone here even to rob the place," no one noticed the "shadow" peeking out from the back room listening to the conversation.

"Thus bringing us to the unpleasantness of my visit: after careful deliberation, National Headquarters has decided to close this branch of the mission."

"Close the mission?" Will was the only one who could speak coherently. "They can't do that!"

"Unfortunately, they're going to."

"Emma, are you sure you can't put in a good word or... _something_?"

"I've tried to Will, honest. Headquarters agrees there are so many other places in more need of our work and this branch is-"

"What if I resigned?" Quinn spoke up. "I'm sure the mission is failing because of me. If I resign then maybe someone else can-"

"Quinn, Honey, it's not you. We've all spoken about how you've done a wonderful job. You've certainly proven that back in Ohio."

"And now I'm certain someone can do better here."

"We've got a big prayer meeting planned for tomorrow night," Will reminded. "What if we can get people to come?"

As if on cue, Puck knocked on the open back room door (much to Quinn's horror). "Oh," Emma rose to greet him, "forgive me, I didn't know we had a visitor. I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I am General Emma Pillsbury, Regional Director of the Save-a-Soul Mission."

Puck bowed to Emma. "Brother Puck, former sinner," he tried to kiss Emma's hand, but Emma pulled away.

"Forgive me, Brother Puck, but I do not like to be touched."

"The fault is entirely my own, General."

"Have you been to this establishment before, Brother Puck?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I have."

Emma looked at Quinn. "I'm afraid we don't have his name on any of our records or reports, Quinn."

Quinn inadvertently ignored the General due to her (angry) attention being focused on Puck. "What were you doing in there?"

"I was awaiting your return, Sister Quinn," it was clear Puck was putting on the charm. "I never did thank you properly following our meeting yesterday."

"It was plenty thanks to have you leave."

"Quinn!" Emma was aghast at that.

"General, Mr. Puckerman is-"

"-is about to protest the closing of this mission," Puck interrupted. "I could not help but overhear your conversation."

Quinn was about to protest him, but Will quickly covered her mouth. "I for one would like to hear what this gentleman has to say," he lowered his hand, and a frustrated Quinn kept silent. "Please continue, Brother Puck."

"Thank you," Puck acknowledged Will before turning to Emma. "General, I came here yesterday a former sinner, but have since changed upon meeting Sister Quinn." Quinn rolled her eyes at that. "I have complete faith in her. I am willing to test my faith in her by having you come to tomorrow night's prayer meeting and seeing for yourself."

Emma blinked at him. "Seeing what?"

"That our beautiful Sister Quinn can fill this mission at tomorrow night's prayer meeting." Puck looked at the 'Thought for the Day' card. "I see this is not the same thought as yesterday. A pity: I was partial to yesterday's thought." He looked at Quinn. "Tell me Sister Quinn, do you still have the card with the quote that was displayed yesterday?"

"Desk drawer," Quinn spoke to him through gritted teeth.

Puck opened the drawer where the card was sitting at the top. "Ah yes, _Isaiah 57:21_."

"Does this have to do with anything?" the general asked Puck.

"Not necessarily; I just wanted to make sure it was there."

"Yes, well, I suppose I could come to the meeting tomorrow on the assurance that there would be definite progress."

Puck sauntered over to Quinn carrying his marker. "What say you, Quinn?" he held out his marker for her to take. "I have the faith; do you?"

Quinn kept her death glare on Puck as she took his marker. "General: I personally guarantee at least one dozen genuine sinners."

"Hallelujah!" Will cried out.

Puck didn't take his eyes off of Quinn as he stared at her with what seemed to be his trademarked, cocky smug-looking grin. "Hallelujah, indeed."


	7. Finn's Surprise(s)

It was an hour or so later that same day when the gamblers had gathered together per Finn's request. By this point, the only people who had yet to show up were Kurt, Puck, and Finn himself. Blaine, meanwhile, had been going around the room passing out red carnations. "This is like the password; make sure you are wearing a red carnation. Remember: nobody gets in the crap game unless they are wearing one. These are Finn's orders."

"Hey, where is Finn?" Society Mike piped up.

"He will be here when he gets here." It was then that the door opened, and in stepped Finn. "He is here," Blaine hurried over to his boss. "Finn, can I tell the guys the game is at Kar-"

Finn did the "ssh" noise a few times as he put his hand over Blaine's mouth and led him aside. "It is not official until I give Karofsky the grand, which I do not have yet." Blaine made some sort of shocked noise under Finn's hand. "I sent Kurt to wait for Puck at the hotel. Once they do the hand off, then I gotta give the money to Karofsky." There was another sort of noise from Blaine. "No, I do not know how long it will take. Until then, the best we can do is stall. Let us go mingle as if nothing is wrong," Finn released his hand and singled out a gambler. "Sammy the Mouth!" Finn made his way over to Sammy as Blaine followed. "How goes it?"

"Not fast enough," Sammy bitingly answered back. "I hope that you do not spoil our evening because I have found myself entertaining a special guest tonight." Sammy gestured to the tall, lanky, figure beside him in a finely pressed suit and black fedora. When he tapped the figure's shoulder, the figure turned around to reveal a rather bored looking woman with short, blonde hair. "I would like to introduce you to Big Susie from Chicago."

Finn was instantly intimidated by this woman. "W-w-welcome to New York, Big Susie." She merely scoffed at him. "I am Finn Detroit and I-"

"I came here to shoot crap," she interrupted. "Why am I not shooting something right now?"

Finn, also being rather tall, put his hands on Big Susie's shoulders. "I do not mean to displease a guest as esteemed as you, Big Susie," as Finn straightened her suit out for her, he gulped when he felt what was obviously a gun in her inside pocket. "Heh," he nervously laughed as he pulled his hand away. "Let me assure you that I, Finn Detroit, have arranged for us to-"

"Well, well, well," Finn practically choked on his words when he heard the ominous voice of Lieutenant Figgins. "Looks like the gang's all here," he began to single out the gamblers. "I see Finn Detroit has rustled up Rusty Artie, Society Mike, Matty the Ox, Blaine Southstreet, and Sammy the Mouth just to name a few local members. The jails must be empty tonight." He noticed Susie. "And here is a face I haven't seen before. May I ask where you're from?"

"Illinois," Susie kept tight-lipped.

"And what do you do in Illinois that allows you to dress in such fine manner?"

"I'm a scoutmaster."

"Well don't ever help my mother across the street." Figgins began eyeing the fellow gamblers. "We've all decorated our lapels tonight," he stopped to smell a flower. "Such pretty red carnations. Tell me Detroit: what brings all you and all these delinquents here tonight?"

"We got lonely," Finn lied.

"But why are they all wearing red carnations?"

"They are also all wearing pants, yet you do not single that out. Is it now a crime to wear flowers? Why do-" Finn stopped as he noticed Rachel and the Hotbox Girls enter for their break.

"You're up to something, Detroit!" Figgins noticed who Finn was staring at. When she noticed the eyes on her, Rachel gave a huff and marched away as if she were ignoring the riff-raff.

"Great," Finn slumped into the nearest open seat, "everybody in the whole world who hates me is here."

Blaine suddenly had an idea. "What's the use Finn; we cannot keep it a secret any longer."

"Go ahead, turn this into my funeral."

"Come on Finn; don't be the spoilsport at your own bachelor dinner party," it seemed like Blaine wanted attention at the last part because he practically yelled it. "Yes, sir, Lieutenant; us guys have gathered here at Finn's favorite restaurant to celebrate him getting married."

"I what?" No one had noticed a stunned Rachel make her way toward the crowd.

"That's right; we are celebratin' on account of Finn getting married. _For he's a jolly good fellow_ ," Blaine began frantically conducting as a way to signal the others to go along with the idea.

 _"For he's a jolly good fellow_  
_For he's a jolly good fellow-"_

Big Susie decided to take solo on the last part. " _Which nobody can deny_ ," and with a mighty, painful smack, she sent Finn stumbling into the arms of the waiting Rachel.

"Oh Finny-Kins!" Rachel hugged him rather tightly, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did not tell you because…" Finn struggled to find an excuse, "…because it was going to be a surprise."

"Well it sure surprised me."

"You and me both."

"Congratulations, Detroit," Figgins congratulated. "When is the happy event?"

"Oh, uh, well…not for a while; there is still so much to do. We gotta get the license, and the blood test-"

"Gee, but wouldn't it be wonderful if we could just get married tomorrow night?" Leave it to Rachel to say that for everyone to hear. "Ooh, we could get married right after tomorrow's show!"

"Rachel, Sweetheart, as much as I would love to, the law requires in order for us to marry we need the license and the blood test. And I am not one to break the law. So who knows how long it will take for us to get married?"

"You could elope," Figgins suggested.

Finn's eyes widened at Figgins. "Lieutenant, are you suggesting that I violate the law?"

"It's legal to elope at your age! In fact: the state of Maryland will marry you two right away. No blood test needed."

"Ain't that unhealthy?"

"Finn," Sammy rushed over to him, "the Lieutenant has come up with a suggestion of which I am sure we all approve." Everyone in the restaurant (except for Finn) nodded. "You and your lovely doll can elope and as a present, I will loan you my getaway car." Figgins' eyes narrowed at Sammy. "I mean, my Buick."

Rachel grabbed Finn's hands. "Oh Finn, let's do it! Please."

Finn's eyes darted nervously around the room. Backed into the metaphorical corner, all Finn could do was gulp and give in. "What the hell; deal me in!" With an excited squeal, Rachel wrapped her arms around her fiancée.

"Speech! Speech!" The guys cheered.

"Well…" Finn wasn't exactly pausing for dramatic effect, "…unaccustomed as I am to getting married, I am taking this occasion here to say that me and Rachel have finally, _apparently_ set a date."

"Hey Finn," Santana spoke up, "say somethin' nice about your bride-to-be."

"Yeah," everyone else agreed.

"Um…" this was one of the rare times when Finn Detroit was at a loss for words. "…to my beautiful Rachel, I shall now dedicate this poem." He had to pause again to think up a poem. "Um…roses are red, violets are blue…" he looked at Rachel, "…Rachel, you're pretty, and I really, really love you." Rachel dabbed her eyes with the napkin Tina had readied for her. "So, uh, that was it," everyone reluctantly applauded.

"Well," Figgins started, "I guess all there is to do is offer my best wishes to you two. Good luck," he directed his attention to Rachel as he headed for the exit, "you'll need it."

"Hey Tiny," Santana was also addressing Rachel, "we gotta get back to the Hotbox."

Rachel gave a whimper. "Oh, but I don't wanna go. I'm just so excited." She gasped. "Finn, what will I tell your mother?"

"Send a telegram and date it back fourteen years," Finn told her.

She smiled at him. "I guess it won't be long until there's seven of us."

"Seven?" He remembered. "Oh right, the five kids."

"And I hope they all look like you," she kissed him. "I love you."

"I love you too." He watched as Rachel and the girls headed back to the Hotbox. Before she was out the door, Rachel blew Finn a kiss and he pretended to catch it and hold it at his heart. When Rachel left, she left with the biggest smile on her face.

Sammy then surprised Finn by slapping him on his back near where Big Susie had earlier. "Finn Detroit, you are indeed one lucky fella. Rachel is a beautiful doll indeed." Sammy looked at Susie. "Do you agree, Big Susie?"

Susie shrugged. "Tell me Detroit: how long you been with the doll?"

"We have been engaged fourteen years," Finn replied.

"You both could do better. You sure could do a little taller." Susie shrugged. "Oh well; maybe you're both the best each other's gonna get. Let's shoot crap."

Before Finn could give an answer, Blaine gestured to the window where Kurt could be seen running to the restaurant. "Excuse me, Big Susie," Finn excused himself and went to the door to greet Kurt, the faint sounds of the mission band playing in the background. "Kurt!"

"Finn!" Kurt was flustered. "Finn, I-"

"You got the money?"

Kurt managed to shake his head. "Finn-"

"Puck was not at the hotel?"

"No, Finn-"

"Did you try the mission? Puck's been stalking the mission band around all morning."

"I am tryin' to tell you-"

The mission band's music got closer. "He must be with the band now."

"Finn, wait-"

Finn ignored him and hurried to the window, Kurt and Blaine keeping up behind him. The trio watched as the mission band made their way down the street—playing " _Follow the_ _Fold_ " of course. However, there was something visibly different this time as Finn counted the band members. Not only was Puck not following the band, but Quinn wasn't leading it. With his eyes bugged out and his jaw slack, a shocked Finn looked at Kurt. No words needed to be spoken as Kurt verified the message with a nod of his head.

"Bu-bu-he…" were the only "words" Finn could manage to stammer out before collapsing to the floor.


	8. What Happens in Havana...

_Havana, Cuba_

Here he was in one of his favorite places, and he was bored. A visibly bored Puck sat at the fountain while an out-of-uniform Quinn explored the sights. If she wasn't looking at any of the buildings or landmarks or whatever seemed historic, she had her nose in the guidebook.

 _No doll is into history like this one_ , Puck thought to himself; fanning his hat to the tune the nearby guitarist was playing. He watched a fascinated Quinn with fascination of his own. _Maybe that's 'cause history has no doll like this one._ Resigning himself, Puck made his way over to said doll.

"Did you know that the original church was built on this site in 1674?" Quinn asked him once he approached. "Although it was reconstructed between 1704 and 1724."

"Yeah, how 'bout that," he was clearly intoning his disinterest.

"That may sound ancient, but there have been missions even before-"

"Does that book say anything on the moonlight?"

She blinked at him in surprise. "No."

"Why is that?"

"Because it is a book of facts and you don't need facts about the moonlight."

"Or perhaps it is because the moonlight is something you need to see for yourself."

Quinn gazed at the night sky. "It is very bright."

"Bright enough for you to keep your nose in that guidebook."

"I happen to take interest in history." Puck took her guidebook from her. "Hey!"

"Don't live in the past; live in the now."

"Says the poet laureate gambler," she glowered at him as she tried to get her book back. "Give it back!"

"Ah-ah-ah Sister Quinn, you have not yet held up your end of our arrangement." She stopped to glare at him. "You will get your precious guidebook back after our dinner." He put the book in his inside pocket before offering his arm for her to hold onto. "Shall we?"

Quinn stomped off with an angry huff, causing Puck to laugh. "What?"

"Other way."

Embarrassed, she blushed before marching in the opposite direction. With a smug smile, Puck followed her to the restaurant. When they were seated to a table, Puck did the gentlemen thing and held the lady's chair out. "Oh," it was clear Quinn wasn't expecting that, "thank you." The waiter asked what they wanted to drink in Spanish. "I'm afraid I don't-"

"What do you want to drink?" Puck translated.

"Oh," she looked at the waiter, "milk please."

"Milk?"

"Yes, milk."

"You are gonna give these people the wrong impression about us Americans."

"Milk," she held firm.

"Milk," Puck nodded before tilting toward the waiter. "Dulce de leche," he held up two fingers, "Dos, por favor." The waiter nodded and backed away.

"What did you order?"

"Dulce de leche. ' _Dulce_ ' is the Spanish word for ' _sweet_ ', ' _de_ ' means ' _of_ ', and the ' _leche_ ' is the ' _milk_ '."

"' _Sweet of milk'_?" Puck nodded. "Mr. Schuester would know if that's right."

"Who?"

"You probably know him as Brother Will. He took courses in Spanish." Quinn had a thought. "He could tell me what's really in the milk."

"Why do you think there is something in the milk?"

"First off: because I know you're the type of guy who would go to great lengths to be with a woman. There's no telling what tricks you have up your sleeve."

"Eh," Puck's gesture indicated it wasn't exactly a lie.

"And because milk is usually not sweet unless you add something to it."

"Relax, I pretty much ordered a milkshake. It's just a little added sugar and a little flavoring in it to make it sweet."

"What kind of flavoring?"

" _Bacardi_."

" _Bacardi_? Doesn't that have alcohol in it?"

"Only to keep the milk from going sour. You can hardly taste the alcohol."

"Oh," there was a bout of awkward silence before Quinn broke it. "You must think I'm a prude or something."

He cocked a brow. "Are you?" The waiter came back and laid the drinks on the table. "Gracias."

Quinn made a sound of delight as she tried her drink. "This is pretty tasty. Can I have another?"

Puck signaled for two more of the drink and the waiter went off to fetch his request. "What was this about being a prude?"

"Suppose I wasn't in mission work; let's say I'm some ordinary girl."

"You are an ordinary girl."

"No, I meant like the kind of girls you're more used to. Would that girl be considered a prude if she refused to leave the country with a complete stranger?"

"No, I don't think so. Sure, she would be playing on the safe side; but that does not necessarily make her a prude." He slid his drink to her. "You can have mine while you wait."

"I suppose a little sip wouldn't hurt," Quinn pretty much downed the whole concoction. "Goodness; I don't know when I've ever been so thirsty."

"And to answer your question: I cannot think of you as a prude because I do not know what, or _who_ you are."

"You must think I'm something."

"I think you are pretty."

She scoffed at that notion. "Pretty plain."

"You are much more attractive than you realize. If I may," he reached over and gently removed the rubber band from her hair. Once her hair came falling down, he tried to make it a little neater.

Surprisingly, Quinn didn't stop him. She waited until he stopped to ask, "Why did you-"

"Sometimes wearing your hair down makes more of a difference."

"Does it?"

"I will admit, I prefer you with your hair down. It accentuates your features." She smiled at that. "And I see it got a smile out of you." She brushed her hair back. "I mean it: you should smile more often."

Quinn tried to shy away as she drank the rest of the drink. "This _Bacardi_ flavoring certainly makes a difference."

"Oh for sure; nine times out of ten."

"You know: this would be a wonderful solution to get children to drink milk."

As the waiter approached the table, Puck took the drinks and passed them to her. "How 'bout we start with just you?" Quinn nodded and drank her alcoholic milk.

…

Seven _Bacardi_ milkshakes later, Quinn was getting a little tipsier and (interestingly enough) more philosophical. "How much do you know about life?"

The sober Puck shrugged. "Only what I am livin' of it."

"Tell me about it."

"What is there to know?"

"Your real name for one thing."

"Yeah, that ain't gonna happen."

"Then tell me how to live life like you. Being able to say what you want, do what you want, have what you want, and just _being_ what you want."

"Why don't you tell me what you think?"

"I think I want to know why you're unhappy."

"Who says I am unhappy?"

For some reason, this got her to blink in astonishment. "You! You did when you came to the mission."

"Ah," she had him there. "Yes, I remember now."

"I failed you. ' _I was weighed in the balance and found wanting_ '."

He smiled. " _Daniel 5:27_."

"I'm sorry if I didn't give you enough of a chance. I'll make it up to you somehow."

"You already have."

She sidled closer to him. "You sure I can't give you the more _personal_ help you were seeking?" Puck nervously cleared his throat and passed the last of the eighth milkshake to her. After she downed the rest of that, she seemed to go on a tangent. "How can a sinner hope to be saved by only an hour or so when for the rest of the twenty-four he must fight temptation alone?"

"How indeed?"

"Help day and night, night and day, anytime, anywhere."

"Sounds like a full-time job."

"Well, you're a full-time sinner."

"Do I not get any time off for good behavior?"

"Pal," she flung her arm onto his shoulder, "you're not gonna fight alone anymore."

"I did not think private lessons to salvation were a part of the mission policy."

"I can make an exception for those who need it."

"A one-woman mission for my own personal salvation?" He considered this. "Is that not what every man is after?"

"Day and night, night and day, anytime, anywhere."

He gulped. "Thanks for the offer, but it really isn't-" she cut him off with a kiss.

When she pulled away, she noticed his stunned reaction. "Well, say something."

Puck tenderly began to run his fingers through her hair, but then decided against it and scooted further from her (as if he was _afraid_ for things to get more intimate between them). "I say we get some dinner."

And that seemed to be the last thing he said—to Quinn anyway, he still talked to order dinner. The twosome sat there eating their meal in silence listening to the band play the same song they heard earlier by the fountain and church. But then the music became more upbeat and people began to dance. Quinn was nearing the point where she could lose all her inhibitions as evident by a certain desire to at least imitate everyone's dancing.

She was about to ask Puck to dance when someone beat her to it. A rather alluring, Cuban woman in a red dress seductively made her way over to Puck and chose him for her dancing partner. Who was he to refuse a lady? And honestly, he had a thing for take charge kind of women. Red-Dress saw what she wanted, and she went after it.

Jealous, Quinn sought out an attractive Cuban male and began to dance with him. She guided the confused gentleman closer to Puck and Red-Dress and tried to dance sexier. It seemed to attract Puck's attention because he did stop mid-dance and inch toward Quinn, but Red-Dress prevented him from doing so. Naturally, Quinn saw that. So in retaliation, she went over and pushed Red-Dress away from Puck.

Impressed, Puck began to dance with Quinn. But when he briefly spun her away, Red-Dress seized the opportunity and began smoothing her body up and down Puck. Quinn didn't very much care for that and once again went back and shoved Red-Dress aside. As she went to wrap her arms around Puck, Red-Dress aggressively pulled her away. So Quinn gave her another shove. Sensing a fight was about to commence, Puck tried to hold Quinn back. But when Red-Dress lunged for Quinn, Quinn freed herself from Puck's hold, and Puck ended up accidentally, and forcefully, pushing Red-Dress. The other men didn't care for the way Puck treated the lady and punched Puck before he could explain himself. So in response to _that_ , Quinn punched the men who clocked Puck. Before she could revel in her little victory, Red-Dress snuck up from behind and harshly tugged on Quinn's hair. After letting out a painful scream, Quinn punched Red-Dress and sent her to the ground.

That's when the free-for-all brawl began. Puck, who had toppled backward toward the stage, had finally gathered his bearings and was ready to get the hell out of there. Searching for Quinn, he failed to notice the Cuban man who was about to strike him with a chair. Quinn, however, noticed the man and bashed an empty glass bottle on his head, sending the man to the floor. As Puck took a tray to use as a shield, someone had inadvertently bumped into Quinn and knocked her onto the ground. Puck punched the guy who accidentally sent Quinn to the ground, scooped her up, flung her over his shoulder, and carried her out of there before the cops showed up.

Puck had carried her out of the restaurant and back to the courtyard with the fountain and church. He sat them both on the fountain. "I would like to apologize in advanced."

She titled her head in confusion at him. "For what?" The answer was made clear when he dunked her into the fountain water, the church bell ringing in the background. She let out a shriek as she rose for air or moment or so later.

"For that."

"No, I think I actually needed that." She began to wring out her hair. "It helped with the dizziness, that's for sure." He handed her a napkin. "Thank you." She started wiping away some water. "You won't believe this, but I swore I heard bells ringing while my head was underwater."

He gave a small chuckle. "I believe you." She gave him a sort of dazed look. "What?"

"Ask me how do I feel?"

"How do you feel?"

"I feel like if I were a bell I'd be ringing!" She stood up. "I don't know why I do, but I do. I don't think I've ever felt like this," she went over to the nearby tree. "If I were a lamp I'd light; if I were a banner I'd wave; and if I were a gate, I'd swing," she tried to demonstrate her swinging, and thankfully Puck caught her before she landed face down on the cobblestone. "But I feel most like a bell just going ding, dong, ding, dong, ding," she swung Puck's arm up and down as she uttered those "sound effects". When she let go of his arms, she started to stumble backwards but (again) Puck caught her. "Ask me how do I feel from this chemistry lesson I'm learning?"

Puck quirked a brow to her. " _Chemistry_?"

"Yeah, _chemistry_!"

"Listen Quinn, I think you've had one too many-"

"Quack!"

He tried not to laugh. "What?"

"I feel like if I were a duck I'd quack!" She climbed onto the fountain.

"Maybe you should get down."

"I just want to describe this whole beautiful feeling! I want to be heard like the bell going ding, dong, ding, dong, ding!" She started to wobble and was about to fall back into the fountain. A panicked Puck went to grab her, but they both ended up toppling into the fountain.

Soon, the two were just sitting in the fountain laughing. The laughing eventually quieted down, and he slowly leaned in to kiss her. Somewhere mid-kiss, she fiercely wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. And yet, Puck pulled her off shortly after. "It's time to go home."

"I want to stay here."

"We better get going if we want to catch the last flight to New York."

She nuzzled into his neck. "It's okay; this feels right."

He gently pulled her away. "No, it doesn't." He got out of the fountain and then helped her out. "And those bells did ring, but only to tell us what time it is."

"Puck," he stared at her, "did I do something wrong?"

"I did." She stared at him. He sighed and turned away. "I made a bet that I could take you to Havana with me. It's the only reason I came to the mission; to win a bet. But now…"

Quinn shrugged. "How else were we going to meet?"

Surprised, he looked back at her. "A girl like you should not mix with a guy like me." Before she could protest, he confessed, "Quinn, I got you drunk on purpose! I thought maybe if you were drunker then I…" he wasn't going to finish his sinful thoughts.

She stumbled her way toward him and leaned on him for support. "' _Come all ye repenters and let us bring a little sin into your life'_ ," he blinked in surprise at her. "This was supposed to happen Puck," she then put his hand to her chest so that he could feel her heartbeat. "My heart is telling me that." Puck lowered his hand and backed away. "I'd feel the same way even when I'm completely sober. We could be here in Havana or back in New York and I'd still have this feeling."

"You don't know that."

"There's only one way to be sure," she held out her hand for him. "We better get going if we want to catch the last flight to New York." Cautiously, Puck took her hand and the two began to leave. "You know something Puck: you are one mixed-up chump."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie addressed Sarah had a habit of unbuttoning one of the buttons on her dress (usually the second or third one), but I decided to put my own spin on it and have Quinn's hair substitute for the buttons. So after the first kiss when Sky buttons Sarah's dress, I altered it so that Puck ran his fingers through Quinn's hair. Subtle little thing, I know; but I wasn't sure if anyone would have questions.
> 
> There's also a couple throwbacks to chapter 4 (the other Puck & Quinn chapter) near the end there if anyone didn't notice/caught that.


	9. Peace, Love, and "Bingo"

_New York City, New York_

"You can stop here, thanks," Puck ordered the cabbie before handing him the fare money. After that, Puck gently shook the sleeping sergeant beside him, "Hey."

Quinn yawned before opening her eyes. "Are we there yet?"

"I thought here was a good stop," he got out of the taxi before helping his barely-awake companion out. "Fresh air could do us both some good. I figured we would stop here and then walk to the mission."

With a moan, Quinn pressed her fingers to her forehead. "What time is it?"

"I'd say around four o'clock."

"A.M.?" He nodded. "Where did the time go?"

"Who knows?" he brushed away a flyaway strand of her hair.

"I must look like a mess." He shook his head no. "I guess I should apologize for the way I behaved."

"No apology needed, you were fine."

"Puck Puckerman, is that you?" a familiar feminine voice started both Puck and Quinn.

Puck (and Quinn) turned around to discover the voice belonged to none other than, "Rachel!" When Rachel made her way over to Puck—carrying an enormous amount of shopping bags—the two of them hugged (as best they could given the many shopping bags). "I did not expect to see you awake at this time."

"The girls threw me a wedding shower slash bachelorette party. It went on a little longer than we anticipated."

"Where are the girls?"

Rachel looked around. "I thought they were right behind me." She shrugged. "Oh well, I'll see them later at the Hotbox. Granted they'll most likely be hungover, but I don't care because I'm just so happy! Did you hear: Finn and I are eloping tonight?"

"My congratulations to you both," Puck gestured to Quinn. "Rachel, I'd like you to meet Sergeant Quinn Fabray of the Save-a-Soul Mission. Quinn, this is one of my longtime gal pals, Rachel Berry."

"How do you do?" Quinn held her hand out for the customary handshake.

"Oh, I just need to…" in order to get a free hand, Rachel had to shift around all of her bags. When she came as close as she could, she shook the blonde's hand. "It's nice to meet a fellow lady friend of Puck's."

"Likewise, I suppose."

"I hate to cut our meeting short, but I have to be at rehearsal in a few hours and I'd like to get _some_ sleep. I would make up for the lost sleep on my honeymoon, but I doubt Finn and I will be doing any sleeping," Rachel giggled while Puck just let out a small courtesy laugh. "Anywho, bye you two."

Puck waved to her as she left. "Bye Rachel." Together, he and Quinn watched her leave.

"Rachel seems nice," Quinn commented.

"She is; a little high-strung and high-maintenance most of the time, but nice." Puck held his arm out for Quinn to link with. "Come on," this time, she accepted it.

"She must really be in love with this Finn guy."

"Since the moment they first laid eyes on each other."

"Love at first sight," Quinn swooned as she laid her head on Puck's shoulder, "how romantic."

"I am surprised that it lasted as long as it has."

She quickly lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him with some disbelief. "You don't believe in love at first sight?"

"Not necessarily _love_ at first sight. _Attraction_ at first sight, sure; _lust_ at first sight, definitely, but…" he noticed the funny look she was giving him, "…you get my point." There was a bout of silence that Puck spent examining his surroundings. "Peaceful, isn't it?"

"Yes," Quinn agreed looking toward the sky. "It looks so natural, doesn't it?"

"That is because in Times Square, dawn is turned on by the electrician. Here is probably the only time the loudest sounds you hear on Times Square are footsteps. This, Quinn, _this_ is my time of the day." He stopped so that he could tenderly brush away some more of her hair, "and you're the only one I want to share it with."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

Quinn started to walk ahead, but was stopped by a soft, "Noah."

"Noah?"

"I have to prove to you that I meant what I told you." She stared at him quizzically. "My real name, it's Noah. The only other women who know that are my mother, my grandmothers, and my sister; family. You are the only woman outside of my family to know that."

"Noah," she breathed. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Noah."

"But if we could keep that 'Noah' thing just between us, that would be great." She smiled. "Ah, there's that smile." Her smile only got bigger. "I think…I think there is something different about this smile. It kind of reminds me of the one Rachel had on when she told us about the elopement."

"Perhaps it's the smile of a woman in love."

"Is it?"

"I don't know, I've never been in love before."

"I have."

Quinn nervously tucked her hair back. "Oh. Have you?"

"Just once," he caught up to Quinn and ran his fingers through her blonde locks, "just now." She made eye contact with him. "I don't know if you believe me, given my reputation but-"

"I believe you."

"You do?"

"I can see it in your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"They're genuine, sincere, honest; your eyes are the eyes of a man who's in love. They give you away."

"So when a man is in love: you can see it in his eyes."

"And when a woman is in love, you can see it in her smile."

They didn't need any words. He stared at her, and she smiled.

And in all honesty, they didn't know what to do with this newfound discovery of feelings. So they did what they set out to do and walked to the mission, hand in hand. "If you'd like," Quinn started, "you can stay here and get some sleep."

"I am not tired."

"Then maybe you could help yourself to some coffee."

"I am not thirsty."

"Some doughnuts?"

"I am not hungry."

"Is there anything you do want?"

He shook his head. "Just you." Quinn shyly bit her lip and Puck swore he heard her hum. "Is that the tune the band played at the restaurant?"

"It might be, but I honestly don't remember given the fact that I was drunk," when he nervously pulled his collar at that, she laughed.

"Well now that you are sober: I would still like to give you a formal apology for bringing you to Cuba under false pretenses and then getting you intoxicated."

"I think it makes for a rather peculiar love story, doesn't it?"

"Not for us. For us it's-"

"-unique," they finished in together

She let out a small giggle. "I might not remember hearing the song, but the melody won't stop running through my heart."

"The song has words, you know."

"Probably something to do with love, no doubt."

"I think it's about you."

She blinked at him. "Me?"

"About us."

" _Us_?"

"About two people who have never been in love before falling in love for the first time."

"Us."

"Us."

They kept their gaze on each other as they leaned in for a kiss. While it was a tender, exciting, passionate, romantic kiss, it was abruptly cut off by the faint, pathetic sounds of the approaching mission band. "Mr. Schuester," Quinn hurried over to the exhausted looking band. "What's going on? Where have you been?"

"Hello Quinn, Brother Puck," Will acknowledged them before directly addressing Puck. "Well we took your advice and spent the entire night crusading against the devil."

"I don't think it went so bad," Joe added. "We did speak to a lot of sinners."

"It would appear Brother Puck was right about sinners being out and about around this time. Where have you two been all day?"

Puck and Quinn exchanged glances that seemed to relay the message " _should we tell them_?" This was simultaneously happening as police sirens in the distance started growing louder. And before Puck and Quinn could say anything, a man came running past them and over to the mission.

"Matty the Ox?" Puck recognized the man.

Matty didn't seem to notice them as he opened the unlocked mission door and loudly whistled. Soon, other gamblers began running out of the back room of the mission. Puck managed to get Quinn out of the way to avoid being trampled. Because once the cops start coming, it doesn't matter who or what is in a gambler's way, but it had better watch out.

"Hey!" Puck managed to stop Finn by grabbing him. "Finn, what the hell is this?"

"Bingo," Finn quickly lied before freeing himself and fleeing.

"Where do you think you're going?" a tall, middle-aged blonde woman yelled at the dispersing crowd, "I'm out ten G's," she started to chase after whoever she could.

When the police car did approach, Lieutenant Figgins bolted out of the car, and into the now empty mission. "Son of a-" he watched his language, "it's no use; someone tipped them off." Figgins eyed Puck, Quinn, and the mission band. "And what a coincidence that the mission was left unattended and unlocked all night." He singled out Quinn. "I did not see you on the all night crusade, Miss Fabray." Figgins diverted his attention to Puck. "But here with Miss Fabray we have fellow notorious gambler, Mr. Puckerman. I must say, I never pegged a high-rolling gambler such as yourself to be a decoy." With that final statement, Figgins got back into the car and left.

Will sighed. "I guess we better get inside and clean up," he led the mission band inside so that Puck and Quinn were once again alone.

Only this time, Quinn's glance toward Puck was cold and unwelcoming. "Quinn," Puck was just as surprised by this as she was, "Quinn, I had _nothing_ to do with this."

"It doesn't matter," that didn't necessarily confirm whether or not Quinn believed him. "If I hadn't gone with you then none of this would have happened."

"Things happen for a reason; you said so yourself."

Quinn tried to keep composure. "I knew I shouldn't have gone with you."

"You went with me to help the mission!"

"Did I? Or did you just need me out of the way?" Her tone stung him. "Now please get out of mine," she pushed past him to enter the mission.

"When will I see you again?"

"Everyone is welcome at the mission."

"That's not what I mean!" When she got the door open, he quickly closed it. "I have been nothing but honest with you this evening. I told you about the bet, my attempts to get you drunk, I told you things I never tell anyone, and I've meant everything! That has to at least count for _something_!"

"Did you win your bet, Noah?" she calmly asked him as she shed a tear. "Did you truly win your bet?" He was visibly trying not to get any more angry. "A girl like me shouldn't mix with a guy like you; you said so yourself."

"Well then what the hell kind of doll are you?"

"A mission doll!" When she got the door opened, she hurried into the mission and then slammed it in Puck's face. The last look she gave him being her infamous "death-glare".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene w/ Rachel happened in the show, but wasn't in the movie. I included it here to fill more story time. There's a mixture of both the movie and show in this one. I wanted to reference both "I've Never Been in Love Before" (show) and "A Woman in Love" (movie), and I think I also accidentally reference a romantic quote I saw on a tumblr post—the whole "you can tell when a man/woman's in love by their eyes/smile" or something eerily similar to that.


	10. Different Perspectives on Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same principal as the song in Chapter 5: Rachel is italic and all the girls are bold italic.

" _And now for our featured attraction, the Hotbox presents Rachel Berry and her Debutantes."_

The Hotbox girls made their way on stage in elegantly fancy attire to perform a little dance. The dance had barely begun when Puck entered the Hotbox. While waiting for a seat, he noticed a rather morose looking Kurt sitting alone. So, being the nice guy that he was, Puck went over to join him.

"Nicely, nicely, thanks," Kurt's tone was sot.

"I did not ask you how you are," Puck noted.

"Yeah, well don't."

"I am supposed to meet Finn; is he here yet?"

"Finn is the reason I am here. He has a message for Rachel that _I'm_ supposed to give her."

There was another round of applause. "Speak of the devil," Puck tilted his head toward the stage as Rachel made a grand entrance in elegantly fancy attire of her own.

Rachel slid the mink she was wearing through her fingers. "Pretty, isn't it?"

" _He bought me the fur thing_  
_Five winters ago_  
_And the gown the following fall_  
_Then the necklace, the bag, the hat, and the shoes_  
_'Oh what generous gifts'_  
_I recall"_

" _Then last night in his apartment_  
_He tried to remove them all_  
_And I said as I ran down the hall"_

" _Take back your mink_  
_Take back your pearls_  
_What made you think_  
_That I was one of those girls"_

" _Take back the gown_  
_The shoes and the hat_  
_I may be down_  
_But I'm not flat as all that"_

_"I thought that each expensive gift you'd arrange_  
_Was a token of your esteem_  
_Now when I think of what you want in exchange_  
_It all seems a horrible dream"_

_"So, take back your mink_  
_To from whence it came_  
_And tell them to shorten the sleeve_  
_For some other dame"_

She and the girls danced into their line formation ready to take off the specific article of clothing according to the lyrics.

" ** _Take back your mink_**  
**_Take back your pearls_**  
**_What made you think_**  
**_That I was one of those girls"_**

**_"I'm screaming_ **  
**_Take back the gown_ **  
**_Take back the hat_ **  
**_I may be down_ **  
**_But I'm not flat as all that"_ **

Admittedly, Puck would be a tad excited for the part where the girls removed their gowns to reveal their matching one-piece, lingerie outfits. This time, however, he looked away. Kurt took notice of that though (considering Puck _never_  looked away when the girls started to take off their clothes).

_**"I thought that each expensive gift you'd arrange** _  
_**Was a token of your esteem** _  
_**But when I think of what you want in exchange** _  
_**It all seems a horrible dream"** _

_**"Take back your mink** _  
_**Those old worn out pelts** _  
_**And go shorten the sleeves** _  
_**For somebody else"** _

This segued into another brief dance number. And when it looked like they were all about to exit, each of the girls ran back for their respective discarded item of clothing.

" _ **Well, wouldn't you?"**_

The audience applauded as the girls danced off. Puck and Kurt even gave a small amount of generous applause on behalf of their mutual female friend.

"I cannot do it, Puck," Kurt confessed. "How am I supposed to tell Rachel that Finn is not going to elope with her tonight?"

"What excuse did Finn suggest this time?"

"That he is visiting an out-of-state aunt who has suddenly taken ill with a very rare tropical disease."

With a sigh, Puck shrugged. "Well that's Finn for ya." He thought of something. "Hey, I thought the game ended last night."

"Big Susie is a sore loser and is most insistent that the game goes on. So we find another place and keep the game going."

"Where?"

"Finn is probably there so I will escort you to the location after Rachel shoots the messenger. You probably want to collect on the bet, right?"

"Huh?" It took a second for Kurt's words to catch up. "Oh, the bet, yeah." Puck stood up. "Why don't I tell Rachel the news and then meet you outside in five minutes."

"Oh thank God," Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. "And if you are looking for action-"

"Actually, I am leaving town tonight; but first there is something I have to do. I gave my marker to somebody and I want-" Puck considered his choice of words, "-I _have_ to make good on it. See you outside," Puck headed backstage and knocked on Rachel's dressing room door.

"Coming!" Rachel lovingly called expecting a certain someone on the other end. When she opened the door and realized it was Puck, she suddenly became embarrassed "Oh my God, Puck!"

"Is this a bad time?"

"No, uh," Rachel quickly threw on her bathrobe, "I thought you were Finn and I wanted to surprise him before the wedding." She tightened the tie around the robe. "Where is Finn anyway? Did he send you as one of his seconds or something?"

"No."

Rachel flashed him a puzzled look. "Then, I don't understand. Why are you-"

"I am supposed to give you a message from him."

"Why? I mean he's already here in the Hotbox," Puck sadly shook his head. "He's gotta be!"

"He's not."

"Bu-bu-but Finn and I are getting married tonight."

"He was called away unexpectedly."

"Let me guess: his aunt has a rare tropical disease and he flew out-of-state to see her?" She gave a scoff. "I call her the 'floating aunt' because he always uses that excuse before one of those stupid, _floating_ crap games. It is a crap game again, isn't it?"

"Why does it surprise you?"

Rachel's eyes began to moisten with angry tears. "He promised he was done with all that." She sniffled. "He hasn't changed."

Puck slammed his fist onto the vanity table. "Change, change; it makes no sense! If he hasn't changed he's still the same! The same crumb-dumb you fell in love with! Why the hell do you want to change that?  Change _him_? Why do all dolls think they can change a guy?"

"I just wanna marry him and live a normal life! A normal home in the suburbs with the house, the white picket fence, the yard, the kitchen, the laundry room, and the little French poodle named after Fanny Brice! Is that too much to ask?"

"If you wanted a normal life so bad then you should have fallen in love with a _normal person_!" Rachel's breath became ragged and she began to cry. "Rachel, don't…" Puck calmed himself so that Rachel could calm down. "A guy does not fall for a doll expecting to be changed, you know. If she fell for him the way he was, why should she have to change him?"

"If he loved her, he would be willing to change for her."

"Well guys like me and Finn do not change."

"It's easy for you to talk, Puck; you're not in love with Finn."

"Thank God for that."

"You just wait 'til you fall in love with somebody you shouldn't." When she got no immediate response, she turned to notice Puck's expression had faltered. "Oh," Rachel let out some a mixture between a laugh and a scoff, "it's that…Quinn girl, isn't it?"

Puck cleared his throat. "Is there any message you want me to give to Finn?"

"Only that I never want to see him again, and you can tell him to…to…AH-CHOO!"

"Gesundheit." Rachel burst into tears and began to wail. "What? What did I do?"


	11. Puck and Luck

At the mission, Quinn was busying herself trying to figure out what to do about the upcoming meeting General Pillsbury was going to attend. Will, who had volunteered to help, wasn't being very much it. "You know something Quinn," Will began after a long period of tense silence, "I don't believe Puck had any more to do with what happened last night than I did."

"That's why you buy solid gold watches for a dollar," she coldly replied back.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

Quinn angrily threw her pencil aside. "I don't know how we're going to get anyone, let alone twelve sinners, to show up by midnight tonight."

There was another round of silence before Will broke it again. "Do you believe him?"

"Whether he had anything to do with it or not-"

"Do. You. Believe. Him?"

"They used our mission for their filthy crap game!"

"That's not what I asked you, Quinn. I asked if you believed him."

"I don't know what to believe anymore." Quinn stopped for a minute to let out a breath. "He's one of _them_ and he always will be. Mr. Puckerman is no good for me, he said so himself; and I vowed that the man I love will not be a gambler."

"But you'll still love Puck nonetheless."

Nervously, Quinn reached for her hair to fidget with. Alas, it was back in its usual high ponytail. "I'll get over it."

"Why? Why would you want to forget the first person who made you feel genuine, sincere, honest love? Love is what we humans long for, what we search for, and you found it, Quinn. You found it! Now all of a sudden you want to forget it?"

"I want to forget _him_. Mr. Schuester-"

"Will, Quinn; you know you can always call me Will."

"- _Mr. Schuester_ , do you know the reason Mr. Puckerman even came to this mission?"

"To seek refuge?"

"To seek _me_. And for what; for some stupid, idiotic bet."

"I knew he came here for you the moment I first saw him lay eyes on you. I've seen that look on a man before and I've experienced it firsthand."

"When?"

"When else; when I first met Emma." Quinn turned toward him. "Quinn, I'm not your father, or your brother, or even an uncle; but I hope I have been some sort of paternal figure for you since we met. So I'm going to give you some fatherly advice because advice is the only thing I _can_ give you. I can't give you the finer things in life, everything you deserve, everything you need, everything you desire; at best, I can only _wish_ those things for you. But what I wish most for you Quinn, is for you to find to find love. Love can bring you so much more than happiness. Now that you have it, don't ever let it go. Never let it go." He sighed. "I did." A stunned Quinn blinked at him. "I had Emma once, I thought I lost her, so I never went back for her even though I wanted to. That's why I joined the mission, just for the chance to see her again. That's about all I can do now, _see_ her. And I hardly even get to do that. It's too late for me, Quinn."

Quinn thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. "It's never too late, Will."

Their moment was interrupted by the bell indicating someone had opened the door. That someone was Mr. Puckerman, with Kurt Nicely standing behind him. "I came here to remind Sister Quinn that she holds my marker for twelve or more sinners by midnight tonight," Puck reminded.

"Forget about it."

"I do not forget a marker."

"As far as I'm concerned you already filled the mission with the sinners last night. We're even now, Mr. Puckerman; good night," Quinn hurried off to the backroom to avoid making a scene.

Puck looked at Will. "I see I have overstayed my welcome."

"You're welcome at the mission any time, day or night," Will told him.

"Thank you," Puck tipped his hat ready to exit.

"Oh, Puck," Will made his way over to him, "if you don't make good on your marker, I'll make it clear all over town that you're a dirty welcher," with that, Will left.

"I always knew I liked him," Puck noted before turning to Kurt. "Alright, where's the game?" Kurt gestured for Puck to follow him and led him to an open manhole under construction. "What is this? What the hell are we doing here?" Kurt pointed his finger downward. "You mean to tell me that Detroit's holding a crap game among literal crap?"

Kurt wasn't too keen on this idea either. "I do not like it any more than you do. Come on, and try not to get anything on my suit."

…

In the sewer, the guys had taken about as much crap as they could. As far as they were concerned, they already had the game last night in the mission. However, guys were always respective of a lady, and despite who she socialized with, Big Susie was still a lady. And she was also a sore loser.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, where are you guys goin'?" she asked as the crowds began to disperse. "I came here to shoot crap."

"Yeah, well we had enough," one of the players (Brandy-Bottle Beiste) stood up to Big Susie.

"Nobody asked you, Sheldon."

"Big Susie," Finn began as he counted his money, "it is plain to see that the fellas are slightly fatigued from weariness having been shooting crap for a while now—namely twenty-four hours."

"I don't care! I'm out twenty-five G's and nobody leaves 'til I get that money back."

"Ugh," Sebastian Slim groaned, "I'm already half-dead."

"But if you do not shut up then Big Susie will arrange the other half," Sammy warned.

"Since I am cleaned out of cash," Susie started, "I will now play on credit." The men groaned at this as well.

Finn tried to come to the guys' defenses. "Big Susie, you cannot imagine how exhausted these men are—especially on a non-cash basis. Well, me, personally, I am fresh as a daisy so-"

"So I'll play with you."

"But I am not a player; I am merely the operator."

"You've been raking down out of every pot, so you've made yourself quite the bundle."

"Well, being I assume the risk, it is only fair that I should assume some dough."

"I don't care! I'm going to roll you whether you like it or not. If I lose, I'll give you my marker."

"And if I lose?"

"You will give her cash," Sammy spoke up.

"Who asked you, Sammy the Mouth? Let me hear this from Big Susie."

"You will give me cash," Susie agreed as she took a pad of paper from her suit jacket pocket.

"Okay, I heard it."

"Here," Big Susie tore off a paper and handed it to Finn. "Now put up your dough." Finn had an odd look on his face as he read over the marker. "Something wrong, Detroit?"

Finn read the marker aloud. "' _I-O-U 1000—signed, X'_. You can write out the thousand, but you cannot write your signature?"

"I was better in arithmetic than English."

"Here," Finn laid out some cash, "this will put you through Harvard."

Susie shook her head. "I'm rolling the whole thousand, Detroit." Begrudgingly, Finn put in the rest of the thousand. "And to change my luck," she reached into her pants pocket, "I'm gonna use my own dice."

"Your own dice?"

"I had 'em made especially for me in Chicago."

"I do not wish to sound petty, but could I take a look at those dice?" Susie showed him the special dice. "These dice ain't got no spots on 'em! They're blank!"

"I had the spots removed for luck. Don't worry: I remember where the spots formerly were."

"You are gonna roll blank dice and remember where the spots formerly were?"

Susie menacingly inched closer to Finn and roughly put her hands on his shoulders, "Do you doubt my memory, Detroit?"

"Why no, Big Susie," Finn gulped. "I have great trust in you."

"Good boy," she rolled her dice. "Ha! Five and a five, that's ten."

"I suppose this means that I have some chance."

Susie rolled again. "Six and a four, ten again; I win!"

Finn pointed to the dice. "Which is the six and which is the four?"

"Either way," she picked up the dice. "I'm rolling again for two thousand."

"I just remembered I am eloping tonight, so I-"

"Put up the money, Detroit," Finn reluctantly did so. "You can elope with your short bride after I clean you out." She rolled the dice. "Seven; I win!"

"Gee, what a surprise."

"Tell you what Detroit: I'll take it easy on you. I'll only shoot a dollar."

"I'll cover all of it."

Susie rolled. "Damn, snake eyes."

"I am rich," Finn unenthusiastically proclaimed.

"I can make you richer; let's roll for three G's."

"Three G's?! That's all I got left!"

"Three G's!"

Finn sighed, "Three G's," he kissed his money goodbye and laid it down. "Probably would have been easier to just put it in your pocket." Susie shook the dice and Finn turned away. "I cannot look."

She rolled. "Ha! Eleven! I win!"

Finn held up his hands in defeat. "And I'm clean."

"Alright, boys, I'm back on a lucky streak! Come on, let's roll!" The men began expressing their displeasure at that.

"Hold on!" Finn interrupted. "You gotta give me a chance to get even! This time we are gonna roll with _my_ dice."

"And what are you gonna use for money?"

"You put up your marker, so I am gonna put up mine."

"I do not think that is such a good idea," Sammy disagreed.

"Whose side are you on, Sammy?" Blaine questioned him. "Finn let Big Susie put up her marker and played with them no-spotted dice. It's only fair that Finn get to do the same."

Sammy shrugged. "It's Finn's funeral."

"So what if it is?" Finn cried out. "Big Susie can shoot me or put me in cement, but at least I would know where I am. I risk my neck to set up this crap game—even promising to get married on account of it. And where do I wind up; broke in the sewer. There is nothing that can be said or done to cheer me up."

"Here it is," the men turned their attention toward Kurt when they heard his voice. They watched as Kurt led Puck down the sewer.

"Evening, gentlemen," Puck tipped his hat. "How is everybody tonight?"

"Well, well, fresh blood," Susie faced Puck. "It's nice of you to put in an appearance, Puckerman; you here for some action?"

"Not at the moment; I just came down to have a chat with some of my friends."

"We ain't talkin'."

"This does not apply to you Big Susie because you are not one of my friends."

"Well your friends are shooting crap."

"This will only take a minute." Puck found a substitute for a platform and stood on it. "Gentlemen, I am here to talk to you about Quinn Fabray's mission."

"What kind of person interrupts a crap game to talk about this stuff?"

"This is the same fella who tried to take the mission doll to Havana," the Irish clarified with his brogue.

"Then why isn't he still there with the dumb broad? Why ain't he somewhere where he's not slowin' up the action?"

Puck directed his attention to Susie. "If you are so eager for action, would you care to make a small wager on a proposition?"

"Depends on the proposition."

Puck jumped from his platform and went over to Susie. He held out his hands. "Am I right-handed or left-handed?"

"How the heck should I know?"

"Then I will give you a clue," Puck socked Susie in the gut with his right hand, and then sent her to the ground with a swift punch from his left fist. Susie was about to reach for her gun, but Puck got to it first. "Finn," he tossed his pal Susie's gun, which Finn fumbled with as he caught it. Puck then stood behind Finn. "Let that be a lesson to anyone who has anything negative to say about Sister Quinn or her mission. And now that I have your attention again: tonight in said mission she is holding a midnight prayer meeting. I promised Quinn Fabray that I would supply that meeting with at least one dozen sinners," he gestured to the crowd, "and I have found the motherload right here in this sewer. I would consider it a great personal favor if you gentlemen would attend tonight's prayer meeting."

Rusty Artie wheeled toward the front. "No way am I wasting my time in some Hallelujah joint."

"Then if not as a favor to me, then as a favor to yourselves. At least the air in the mission is cleaner than it is down here. Anyone: Matty the Ox? Society Mike?" Puck looked at his friend. "Finn?"

Finn struggled to find the words. "Puck, you are my pal, but I cannot do something like this with just myself. And myself alone is not enough."

"I cannot say I didn't try. Thanks for your time, boys," Puck readied to leave.

"Puck, wait," Finn caught up to him, "about that Havana business…I do not have the one thousand that I owe you."

"I am glad you brought that up, Finn," Puck reached for his inside jacket pocket and presented Finn with a wad of cash. "A bet is a bet, and you won it."

"I did? I do not understand, I thought you took Miss Quinn to Havana."

"You thought wrong." Puck headed for the exit.

"Hey Big Susie," Finn ran over to Susie as Susie got to her feet, "it is now time for me to get even. I will be putting up my grand and we will roll with _my_ dice."

"Your dice?" Sammy questioned. "With honest dice, Big Susie cannot make a pass to save her soul."

Puck stopped in tracks and turned around to face Sammy. "What did you say?"

"I say that with real dice, Big Susie cannot make a pass to save her soul."

That's when the idea came to Puck. "Well maybe with honest dice, I can make a pass to save all of your souls." Puck took the dice from him. "Keep your money Finn: _I_ am gonna roll these dice." Verbal confusion and disbelief was heard throughout the sewer. "One roll! With that one roll I am gonna bet a thousand dollars against your souls." There was another vocal discussion. "A thousand in cash against a marker for your soul." And there was the high-playing, crazy betting Puck.

"Hold up: if you win, we gotta show up at some mission? But if you lose: we all get a thousand in cash?"

"Save-a-Soul Mission, midnight tonight, one prayer meeting. If not: a thousand a piece."

Sammy shrugged. "That's okay by me."

"I can handle that," Blaine agreed.

"What have we _really_ got to lose?"

Each of the men began taking out their pads of paper to write out their marker. "Psst," Sebastian whispered to Beiste, "how do you spell 'soul'?"

Puck waited until they were finished. "Alright, now put down your markers and give me some room." They did as they were instructed. Puck then picked up the dice, but froze.

"What's the matter, Puck?" Sammy began. "You suddenly turning chicken?"

"I ain't no chicken! I just got a little more than money riding on this one. Excuse me a sec," Puck stepped aside, took off his hat, held his hands together with the dice closed in them, and looked up to the heaven. "So listen, I don't know if I am doing this prayer thing right, but I gotta pray to something. I really need Lady Luck on my side tonight because I am not doing this for myself. That is, if luck even is a lady to begin with—and I certainly hope she is. I hope this is the only time I will ask for a miracle, but the miracle is not for me. I made a promise to a lady more important than Luck, and I gotta honor that promise." He took a breath. "I gotta honor _her_. I probably don't deserve this, but can you see fit to do this for Quinn? _She_ really deserves it," he looked at the ground, "she deserves better than some gambler like me. And I promise when this is all over, I'll get out of her life forever. Just…just do this for Quinn…please." He was about to head back to the crowd. "Oh, and Amen, I guess." He made his way to the center of the crowd, knelt, laid out his money, blew on the dice, and shook them in his hands. "Luck be a lady tonight," he started to say. "Luck be lady tonight," he began repeating this like a mantra.

"What is he sayin'?" Sammy asked.

"Who cares; why isn't he rollin'?" Susie questioned.

"Come on, roll!" Artie yelled.

"Roll! Roll! Roll!" the crowd demanded via chant.

"Luck be a lady…" Puck gave one final shake, "…tonight!" and rolled the dice as expectant eyes watched in anticipation.


	12. Sue Me

"Lousy, no-good; he cheated somehow!" Big Susie was grumbling after she cleaned up, "I tell ya I don't wanna go there!"

"But Big Susie," Sammy began, "you gave your marker. You cannot welch on your marker."

"If it ever gets back to Chicago that I went to a prayer meeting, no decent person will talk to me."

They continued along their way unaware of the presence hiding nearby. Rachel was clearly looking for Finn, but trying to be inconspicuous (it didn't help that she was reading her magazine upside down). When she did see Finn make his way, she threw the magazine aside, started walking briskly toward him, and made it so he would bump into her.

"Rachel!" of course Finn thought it was a coincidence.

"Oh no, how clumsy of me," and it was now obvious to Finn that Rachel was upset with him. "An awkward coincident."

Finn led Rachel aside. "Rachel, please do not be upset with me. After all, I sent Kurt to deliver my message; you like Kurt." Rachel huffed. "Oh Rachel, if you only knew what I have been through tonight then you-"

She held up her hand. "Please, let us not have a vulgar scene. After all, we are civilized people," she sneered at him, "or at least half of us are."

"You are upset with me, I get that; but is this really the way to behave? Acting like this over one lousy elopement?"

"Upset? Why Finn, I'm not upset. I have succeeded in your not being able to upset me no more. I have got you completely out of my…my…AH-CHOO!"

"Gesundheit."

"…system." Rachel began to weep. "Oh Finn!"

"Aw Rachel, I cannot stand it when you cry," she cried louder in response. "Rachel, we will get married, I promise."

"I wish I could believe you." She opened her purse and took out a letter. "I forgot, this postcard came from you from your mother last night."

"Oh boy," Finn took the card and began to read. " _My Darling Finn-Finn_ ," he rolled his eyes at the special name his mother had for him, " _I am very proud of the man you have become. Every day I can picture you getting up at dawn to be at work by seven—I can imagine being the assistant manager at the_ A&P _pays well,"_ he looked at Rachel. "I am not the regular manager?"

"I was gonna promote you at Christmas."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Finn looked back at the message. " _Rachel tells me you work so hard to take care of her and your five (and a half) children."_ He looked back up at Rachel. "Five and a half? Was one of our children born without a lower body or somethin'?"

"Your mother wanted to come visit, but I told her it wouldn't be a good idea what with us expectin' another baby on the way."

"Ah, that would explain it then." He read the rest of the message. " _You make me so happy and proud and I love you so much, son. Hugs and Kisses: Mom. PS: give my love to Rachel and my precious grandbabies._ " He put the postcard down. "My mother sends you and our five and a half, non-existent children her love." Finn sighed. "Well I feel even more like a horrible person."

"Finn," Rachel reached for his hands and held them in hers, "it's not too late. We can elope right now."

"We can?" He watched Rachel excitedly bob her head up and down before noticing Kurt and Blaine standing near the door pointing their watches at him. Finn's enthusiasm soon faltered. "We cannot," he sadly announced as he pulled his hands away.

Upset Rachel returned. "And why not?"

"I am going to tell you the truth, but you will not believe me."

"Finn, why can't we get married right now?"

"Because…well…I gotta go to a prayer meeting."

"Finn," Rachel managed to keep calm when she said his name, "that is the biggest and most unforgivable lie you have ever told me!"

"But I promise you it's true!"

"You promise me this, you promise me that, you promise me everything under then sun, but then what happens? You give me a kiss, you grab your hat, and you're off to the races again." With an angry huff, Rachel stomped her foot. "When I think of the time gone by-"

"Rachel, Baby-"

"-and I think of the way I've tried-"

"Rachel-"

"-I could honestly die!"

Finn sighed. "So call a lawyer and sue me. Scream and holler at me all you want, hate me even; but I still love-"

"I was a fool to waste the best years of my life with you!"

"Alright already, I'm just a no-goodnik, a crumb-dumb, and I have been told I am no good for you on several occasions."

"Those statements are all accurate."

"Surely there is a better reason why am I no good for you than my gambling."

"Does there have to be? You gamble on everything except _me_! And I'm always the last to know these things!" She growled. "All that time and effort on you, Finn! What has it gotten me?" Rachel started to cry. "What has it gotten me, Finn?"

He handed her his handkerchief. "So sue me for everything that I did wrong to you. I deserve it." She sneezed. "Gesundheit. And I'll understand. I do not blame you if you hate me."

"I'm so afraid that one of these days you're gonna wind up in jail."

"Especially if _you_ were one to call the police."

"Oh no, I would never! But I can't guarantee I'll be the one to bail you out, Finn. I've stood by your side through so much, but I can't be associated with a criminal. Think of the repercussions."

"What does me going to jail have to do with you hitting your head on something?"

"AHEM!" Kurt and Blaine loudly cleared their throats and pointed to their watches.

"What's the matter, Finn?" Rachel asked him with her arms folded across her chest. "You late for another crap game? Those were always more important than me."

"Okay, I get it!" Finn surrendered. "You're upset, you're mad, you're hurt and it is all my fault. You probably want to shoot me right now." Rachel made some sort of noise of agreement. "I did promise you that I would never be unfaithful; but in a way, I suppose I have by devoting my attention to the crap games. I do love you Rachel; I love you so much. And when I promised you I gave up those crap games, I honestly should have. The last thing I want to do is lose you. If you promise to forgive me, I promise to start keeping my word. And that includes marrying you. However, we cannot get married tonight. I stated my reason, but you do not believe it. That is understandable."

"You should not make up those kinds of lies, Finn. What is the real reason you won't marry me?"

"I cannot stay here and argue because I am late for the prayer meeting. I love you." Rachel sneezed. "Gesundheit."


	13. Don't Rock the Boat

General Pillsbury glanced from her watch to the clock on the wall while the other mission members sat melancholy in the empty room. "Both my watch and the wall clock have the same time," Emma noted. "If our guests are arriving, they're late."

Quinn, who was sitting in the corner alone, stood up. "They're not coming."

Will was about to speak up, "Quinn-"

"What's the point, Mr. Schuester? General Pillsbury, the fault is entirely my own. It isn't enough that I've failed the mission every other day, but I made what I already knew to be a broken promise and-"

Quinn was cut off by the bell on the door ringing. Entering the mission were at least seven men and one woman in suits and hats. "Welcome, Brothers and Sister," Will excitedly greeted the guests. "Come in, sit down."

No one wanted to move. The only person who did move was the man pushing his way through the crowd. That man was Puck. "You heard him, you mugs; get in there!" Puck ushered the clearly disinterested crowd inside. "And hats off," Puck reminded as he took off his own. He made sure to count the crowd as they sat. "Anyone seen Finn?"

Finn came sprinting into the mission with Kurt and Blaine tailing behind. "Present!"

Puck did some counting. "That only makes eleven," Puck looked outside and grabbed an upcoming passerby—a scrawny, meek young man with glasses and large curly hair who had clearly came from the nearby delicatessen. "You'll do," he pushed the confused character inside. "What's your name?"

"Jacob," Jacob meekly answered. "I just got off working at the deli and-"

"Yeah, I didn't ask for your life story, pal," he pushed Jacob to the nearest open chair. "And that makes an even dozen," Puck faced Quinn, "as promised. I would ask for my marker back, but I do not want to break up your collection of thoughts. When you get around to it: mark it paid in full."

"Welcome friends," Will greeted. "We will get the meeting started if you would all sit down." The crowd began to protest.

"SIT DOWN!" when Puck gave the orders, they followed. "Tonight, you're gonna do as the General, Brother Will, and Sister Quinn tell you. I would like to remind you all that you are no longer on your knees in a sewer. You are sitting in a respectable mission and I trust that there will be no further unpleasantness."

"You're not staying, Brother Puck?"

"No Sir, there are other places I need to move on to." Quinn seemed affected by this. "And so I name Finn Detroit as my deputy," Puck went over to his deputy and handed him the markers. "Return them when they are made good. Anyone who causes trouble will have to answer to me personally," he put on his hat. "And yes, that means in person." He leaned in to warn Finn, "Nobody leaves," tipped his hat to the mission members, and left.

"What a remarkable young man," Emma commented on Puck to Quinn. Quinn said nothing in response to that, but instead sat back in her chair. After she sat, for reasons that seemed unclear to her, Quinn took out the rubber band and let her hair fall.

"I uh…" Finn cleared his throat, "…I do not really have anything to add to what Puck said. However, if any of yous guys act out of line, I would be more than happy to squeal." He smiled at Will. "Brother Will, your dice."

"Thank you, Brother Finn," Will thanked, "but tonight our meeting will be conducted by the Regional Director of the Save-a-Soul Mission, General Pillsbury." Finn applauded, and soon the others began joining in.

"My goodness," Emma looked around, "I don't think I've ever attended a meeting that could boast so many evil-looking sinners," Finn began to applaud that, but soon realized it wasn't a thing worth lauding and instantly stopped in embarrassment. "Surely your hearts must be heavy with sins to which you want to confess. Which one among you will be the first to give testimony?" The audience all ducked their heads to avoid being noticed.

So, Finn decided to do the selecting. "Blaine Southstreet, give testimony."

"I plead the fifth commandment," Blaine spoke up.

"Come brothers and sister," Emma started. "We know that this is not an easy thing to do; but I'm certain if one of you opens your heart then the rest will surely follow."

"Blaine," Finn began, "this is an order! Tell everyone what a bum you are."

"Not that much of a bum, thank you," Blaine snarked back before nervously standing. "I admit, I have done bad things before, though this does not necessarily make me a bad guy. However, I am not that good of guys, or that good of gamblers, but I do _try_. I would like to be a better guy, and a better gambler. I thank you," with that, Blaine sat down.

"Thank you, Blaine," Emma thanked. "Do you feel better?"

"I don't feel different."

"I suppose that is a start. Who will be next?"

Finn pointed to his next victim. "Big Susie. Tell the people all the terrible things you've done that you won't be doin' no more. And remember to watch your language."

"Damn," Susie muttered.

"I heard that."

With a relenting sigh, Susie stood up. "I think I've always been the way I am ever since I was a little boy," people began exchanging confused glances with one another, "but I like to think I've gone straight since then. My record clearly shows so: thirty-three arrests and no convictions," she proudly sat down.

"Mouth, you next."

"I don't wanna!" Sammy protested.

"I had to do it, so now you do too," Susie "encouraged" him as she roughly slapped him to standing.

"Okay," Sammy rubbed his back as he rose. "So when Puck was rollin' us against our souls-"

Emma held up her hand, "I'm sorry Brother...Mouth, but I don't understand what you mean by 'rolling you against your souls'."

"Puck Puckerman rolled us a thousand bucks each against our souls. That's the reason we are here."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand."

"I do," Quinn stood up to interpret. "This man is saying that the only reason they're here tonight is because Mr. Puckerman _won_ them in a dice game. If Mr. Puckerman lost, he would have given them each a thousand dollars. However, he won, and that is the only reason why these men and Sister Susie are here tonight."

"So this whole meeting is the result of gambling?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I must say Sergeant Quinn, that is very impressive."

"What?"

"This meeting you organized shows that good can come out of evil. Once again, you have truly outdone yourself."

Will proudly stood. "Congratulations Quinn!" he then led everyone in a round of applause for Quinn.

"HEY!" Sammy yelled over the applause, "I wasn't finished with my testimonyin'!" They quieted. "Anyways: my sin is that I wished Puck would lose so that I could win a thousand bucks instead of having to come here. Now that I am here…eh, I still wish I had the thousand."

"Thank you for your honesty, Brother Mouth," Emma thanked.

"Umm," Jacob nervously began to rise, "I don't really know why I'm here, but while we're confessing our sins, I'd like to say that-"

"Sit down Jacob," Finn interrupted, "no one asked you."

"Actually," Kurt was the next to stand, "there is something I would like to get off my chest. This has been happening on and off again lately, as if it were a dream."

The door to the mission burst open, and in came Lieutenant Figgins. Figgins literally pointed the finger at Finn and opened his mouth to yell, but Finn quickly shushed him, took off the lieutenant's hat, and rested the hat on the pointed finger. "If you will excuse us Lieutenant, but Brother Kurt was about to testify." Finn turned to Kurt. "Tell us Kurt, in your own words."

"I know it was a dream, but it seems so realistic. And this dream often happens lately when I know I am doing, or about to do something bad. It recently happened before our big crap game. I dreamt that I had gotten on the boat to Heaven and by some chance, I had brought my dice along. I stood there tryin' to convince people to join in and fade me, but it's like the passengers knew right from wrong. And then…then they started to talk altogether. The people all said 'sit down, you're rocking the boat." He nodded toward the now intrigued faces. "'Sit down you're rocking the boat. And the devil will drag you under by the sharp lapel of your checkered coat'—because even in my dreams I am always fashionable. They kept telling me, 'Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down you're rocking the boat'."

"Ooh," some of the men chorused their interest in Kurt's testimony.

"So I was sailing away on that little boat to Heaven, and all of a sudden I noticed there was a bottle in my fist. So I stood nicely passing out the whiskey, but those passengers were bound to resist. The people all said 'beware, you're on a heavenly trip. Beware, you'll scuttle the ship. And the devil will drag you under by the fancy tie 'round your wicked throat. Sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down you're rocking the boat'. I mean, these passengers said everything rhythmically and stuff, almost like a song in a Broadway show."

"It would make for a nice Broadway show," Sebastian Slim whispered to The Irish (who then nodded in agreement).

"Anyway, I started to laugh at the passengers like they were crazy. That's when this big wave came and washed me overboard. I have always had a fear of sinking and I panicked and began crying out for help. You know, 'someone save me'."

"What happened next?" The Irish asked on behalf of the audience.

"What happened next?" everyone eagerly nodded wanting him to continue. "That was the moment I woke up, thank the Lord." He breathed a sigh of relief. "So I said to myself 'sit down. Sit down you're rocking the boat'. I kept sayin' this over and over until I felt assured. I do not want the devil to drag me under where my soul would never float. That's when I kept repeating, 'sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down you're rocking the boat'." Next thing he knew, everyone else had stood and was repeating this phrase. So to get them to stop, Kurt hopped onto his chair and loudly whistled. "Sit down guys, don't rock the boat." They all sat. Kurt then leapt from his chair and bowed to the mission members. "Thank you," then he too sat down.

"Umm," Figgins was the only one standing, "what just happened?"

"Lieutenant Figgins," Finn stood and made his way to the stunned Lieutenant, "is there anything we can do for you this evening? Perhaps you would like to testify?"

"I'll do my testifying in court! I will be sure to testify that _you_ ran a crap game here in this mission last night!" Figgins directed his attention to Quinn. "Miss Fabray, you were standing right outside the mission when they ran out, so you saw 'em." He pointed to the congregation of sinners. "Aren't these them?" The sinners all look toward Quinn with anxiety etched on their faces.

A serious Quinn rose from her seat. "Lieutenant," she paused as if she was getting a good look at them, "I have never seen these people before in my life." The faces went from anxiety to gratefulness.

"Now there's a right broad!" Big Susie loudly proclaimed.

Will then went over to the Lieutenant. "I don't mean to be rude, Lieutenant, but we are in the middle of our midnight prayer meeting. Though you are welcome to join us if you'd like."

"If I..." Figgins pinched himself, "...nope," he then beckoned for Finn to approach him. "Tell me somethin' Detroit: is my name still Figgins?"

"Last I checked," Finn answered.

"Okay," Figgins bobbed his head in a daze as he headed for the door. "Huh, so maybe this is what they mean by 'holy rollers'." He left without closing the door.

So Finn closed the door on Figgins' behalf and then made his way toward Quinn. "I would like to thank you most sincerely on everyone's behalf, Miss Quinn. And in gratitude, I suppose I should be the next one to make a confession," Finn faced the General. "General, we did shoot crap here last night; but know that no one in the mission knew about it. And we would like to apologize for what we did," he craned his neck toward the group. "Wouldn't we gang?" Everyone just looked down. "I said," Finn held up the markers, "wouldn't we gang?"

"Sorry," the sinners (even Jacob) apologized in unison.

"That is not the only terrible thing I did," Finn once again faced Quinn. "I bet a certain guy that he could not take a certain doll on a trip to Havana with him." Quinn bit her lip. "I know this I should not have done, even though I doubt there is any harm in winning the bet. Granted, it was still wrong for me to do so in the first place."

Quinn blinked at him in surprise. "You _won_ the bet?"

"Well yeah, the guy did-"

"We all know the guy's Puck!" Beiste interrupted.

Following an agitated sigh, Finn continued, "-that _Puck_ did not take the doll with him; he told me this himself and paid me the thousand I guess I rightfully won. I will admit though, it did feel a little wrong—it still does, I guess—but I feel a whole lot better getting it off my chest. Thank you," Finn thanked the mission members before sitting down.

" _Finn_ won the bet?" a stunned Quinn whispered to herself as she sat down.

"Thank you, Brother Finn, for telling the truth," Emma thanked Finn. "Who will be the next to testify?"

Jacob slowly began to raise his hand, but Finn lowered it for him. "Not you, Jacob, you already had your chance."

Without warning, Quinn suddenly stood up and bolted out of the mission. Emma had barely uttered her name by the time the door slammed shut.

Society Mike leaned closer the person beside him. "Whaddya suppose got into her?" Matty just shrugged in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Jacob is Jacob Ben Israel. This was kind of a last minute thing because I was one sinner short and I put him as a substitute like they tried to do in the season 1 'Sectionals' episode. Here I kinda used him for a running gag.


	14. Reunited

Rachel sorrowfully sighed as she exited the restaurant with a cheesecake to go. "Well," she sat on the nearby bench and held the dessert in front of her, "I guess I'll eat this to celebrate the end of my relationship…and my diet," she shoved most of the dessert into her mouth and made a noise of satisfaction. "It's so good I can't be upset," she took another bite

As Rachel sat on the bench, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She caught some sort of yellow whizzing past her, that much she knew. When she craned her neck to see, Rachel saw a blonde girl in a (really drab and boring) uniform inside the restaurant practically pleading with the waitress Finn called "Zizes". Rachel watched Zizes reply and the blonde's shoulders sagged. When the blonde turned around, Rachel recognized her.

"Hey!" Rachel called to the blonde when she exited. "Hey, I know you!"

Quinn blinked at her. "Rachel?"

"Your name's Rachel? That's my name too!"

"No, I was talking to you. My name's Quinn," Quinn sat beside her. "We met before; you're Finn's fiancée."

Rachel tried not to get upset. " _Former_ fiancée."

"Oh no! Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be; it's probably for the best. I should have realized we were never gonna get married; fourteen years of being engaged and I still haven't even gotten a proper engagement ring. Yet I stuck with that crumb-dumb anyway."

"Weren't you two going to elope tonight?"

"I caught him after his crap game—he always goes to the restaurant after a game for some Danish—and I said we could elope, but then he said something so heartless and unforgivable that I…"

"Pardon me asking: but what did he say?"

"He said he had to go to a _prayer meeting_! Of all the excuses and lies, that had to have been the-"

"Your fiancée wouldn't happen to be Finn Detroit would he?"

" _Former_ fiancée; and yes, he was."

"Well your _former_ fiancée was telling the truth. There is a midnight prayer meeting going on right now and he and eleven other sinners are there as we speak."

"What? Really?" a puzzled look etched on Rachel's face. " _Why_?"

"Because Noah Puckerman won their souls in a dice game."

"Noah? Does Puck Puckerman have a brother I don't know about?"

"Noah is Puck. I wasn't supposed to tell you that though."

"That does make sense. I always wondered what kind of parent would name their kid Puck Puckerman."

"You wouldn't happen to know where Puck is, would you?"

"He's not at the meeting with the others?"

"He delivered them and left. I'm afraid he's leaving New York, but I have to find him before he does!"

"He didn't tell you where he was?" Quinn shook her head. "At least Finn had the decency to lie to me whenever he wanted to go out, even if he was going to a crap game. Looking back on it now I should have questioned why a guy like Finn would want to go to the opera with the guys and not with me. I forgave Finn though because he always came back to me."

"He still will."

"Not after tonight. I think I broke it off for good."

"If Finn's really in love with you, he'll do whatever it takes to win you back."

"Or maybe I should do what you're doing! Yeah, I should go to Finn and win him back for myself!"

"Do what I'm doing?"

"Aren't you trying to find Puck so you can win him back?"

"Win him back; oh Rachel, I don't even think I had him to begin with."

"Really?!"

"You find that hard to believe?"

"Well yeah because the guy's in love with you."

"Puck's in love with me?"

"He's gotta be if he introduced you by your real name. I've never known him to behave himself around a girl, and I've known Puck for over a decade. Though I never knew his name was Noah. I don't think anybody did. Wouldn't he only tell that to people he really loved?"

"Puck loves me?"

Rachel shrugged. "Sure seems that way." Quinn started to cry. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"He loves me and I wouldn't even give him a chance! I just wanted to find him and ask him why he told Finn he lost the bet."

"Bet?"

"Finn and Puck made a bet that Puck couldn't take me to Havana with him."

"Did you go to Havana with him?"

Quinn nodded as she wiped some tears. "But Puck told Finn I didn't go and gave him a thousand dollars."

"Finn has a thousand dollars?"

"All this time I tried to hate Noah Puckerman. He only came in to win a bet, he tried to get me drunk, he unknowingly let his buddies hold a crap game in the empty mission-"

"That last one doesn't really sound like his fault."

"-but he held true on his promise and he never once took advantage of me. And his eyes…" she thought back to their four a.m. rendezvous in Times Square.

"Were his eyes bleeding or something?"

"His eyes were the eyes of a man in love; and he said it was for the first time." She ran her fingers through her hair as if hoping he would do the same. "I tried to deny I was in love with him, tried to forget him and keep the feeling, but I can't. I guess I didn't realize how much I really love him."

"Only one way to be sure: if you found Puck and he got down on his knees right then and there and asked you to marry him despite only knowing each other for two hours-"

"We've known each other longer than-"

"Or however long you knew the man, I just picked a random time frame."

"Did Finn propose to you after knowing you for only _two hours_?"

"Could we please? Okay, so Puck's on his knees askin' you to marry him, but he ain't got the ring. He's promising all these things he's gonna get you that you know you ain't ever gonna get, but he seems so genuine, so sincere, so honest with that hopeful look on his face and you-"

"Yes!" Quinn blurted out as if she were imagining it happening.

"I take it you'd agree to marry him?" There was a pause. "Now close your eyes." Quinn turned to her with her brow skeptically raised. "Go on, close 'em." Quinn did so. "Try to picture the guy you always wanted to marry."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because the only man I see when I close my eyes is Puck."

"There you go; you love him."

"But he's not the man I want to marry. He's a gambler, he's dishonest, he's always so sure of himself, he-"

"He's Finn." Quinn stopped to look at Rachel. "You just described everything I've tried to change about Finn." Rachel let out some kind of laugh. "Here we are talking about the men we love and how we want to change them."

"That's the trouble: I don't know if I want to change Puck."

"I think you already have. And maybe…maybe I did that to Finn but I didn't know it. I didn't really know him before we met."

"Didn't you pretty much confirm that you got engaged within _two hours_ of meeting one another?"

"If you change a man like that once, is there any point in changing him again?"

"I'm certain you can't change _everything_ about a gambler."

"Well if you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't you get it?" Quinn shook her head. "Us girls just have to take a gamble on _them_! You know: gamble on our gamblers."

"I see what you're saying."

"Being with them is like the ultimate gamble. We rolled the dice, we saw our option, and now we have to decide whether or not to keep it."

"Wouldn't that apply to cards because I don't know a game where you decide to keep a dice roll?"

"You get my point, don't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"And who knows; maybe another major life event can change them. They fell in love, they got engaged-"

"Puck and I aren't-"

"So the next step would be marriage!" Rachel gasped in awe. "Ooh, I can finally buy that dress at _Wanamaker's_ and make all them alterations I want!" She paused. "Or was the dress at _Saks_? _Klein's_?" She literally shrugged it off. "Whatever."

"There is a great deal of difference between a bachelor and a married man. There would had to have been _some_ changes during that period of transition."

"Is there anything important after marriage? Besides divorce of course."

"Divorce?"

"Or death; whatever parts the couple first. It's just divorce is so common nowadays that-"

"A baby!"

"Well I don't think babies can get divorces, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"No, the next step! Have a baby!"

"Yes! Yes, a baby changes everything. And why stop at one? If you give him one baby, one of you would probably want the other kind. First you have a boy, then you gotta have the girl. Have two kids."

"Or a boy and a girl for him and a boy and a girl for you; have four."

"Or nine."

" _Nine_?"

"I'd like a big family."

"But _nine_?"

"Why not; Finn and I already have six."

"What?"

"What are we still doing here? We have to find the guys! Where did you say Finn was?"

"At the Save-a-Soul Mission."

"Great, thanks!"

"But I still don't know where to find Puck!"

"Knowing Puck you'd probably find him in one of them hotels. He's partial to the fancy-looking one a few blocks away, near the Hotbox. Gosh, but I couldn't tell you the name."

"That's okay, I'll find it myself!" Quinn hugged Rachel before hopping off the bench. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_ ," Rachel watched Quinn run off. "Oh, you might wanna get yourself an umbrella in case it-" there was a rumble of thunder and the rain came pouring down, "-too late." She took the empty cheesecake wrapper and held it over her head as she ran to the nearby mission.

…

"And you Brother Matty," Emma was talking to Matty the Ox, "do you have any sins to confess?" Matty scribbled on a piece of paper and had whoever was in front of him pass it to Emma. "Oh," Emma was surprised at what she read, "my that's quite…quite a lot of sins." Matty shrugged. "Well thank you for sharing—a little more than I expected from someone so quiet, but thank you."

"It's always the quiet ones," Kurt whispered to Blaine.

"Now if you gentlemen would rise and open your hymn books to page twenty-two, ' _Follow the Fold_ '."

Literally everyone rose. This included, "Rusty Artie?" Blaine's vocal surprise made everyone turn to the guy standing in front of the wheelchair. "You can stand?"

Emma gasped in delight. "It's a miracle!"

Rusty Artie's eyes nervously darted across the room. "Yeah, miracle, how 'bout that?"

"Rusty Artie," Finn began, "could you stand this entire time?"

"Kinda, sorta, yeah."

"Well why didn't you?"

Artie shrugged. "You never asked."

"Ahem," Will loudly cleared his throat to bring back focus, "page twenty-two please."

"Thank you, Will," Emma thanked him.

"My pleasure, Emma—I mean, General."

"Emma's fine, Will." They shared a smile with each other as everyone opened their books. "Joe, if you would please." Joe, who had his guitar ready, played a note so that Emma could begin conducting.

 _"Follow the fold and stray no more_  
_Stray no more_  
_Stray no more_  
_Put down the bottle and we'll say no more_  
_Follow, follow the-"_

The song was cut off by someone bursting into the mission. "Rachel?" Finn hurried to that someone.

"Golly Finn," she smiled at him, "I didn't know you could sing."

"Rachel, what are you doing here? Do not misunderstand, I am happy to see you but-" he stopped when he saw her get down on one knee, "Uh…what are you-"

"Finn Detroit, will you marry me?"

"Ain't it customary for the man to do the askin'?"

"You once asked me fourteen years ago and I told you I would."

"You actually said 'yes, yes, a thousand times yes' if I recall."

Rachel giggled. "That I did. Either way, you asked me that and I was so sure; but now it's my turn." He let out some sort of surprised laugh. "I still want to marry you and I hope you feel the same about me?" Without saying a word, Finn reached into his pocket, took out the thousand dollars Puck had given him, and handed the money to Rachel. "I don't understand, why are you-"

"Pick out any ring you want, doll. You and I are getting married."

"OH, THANK GOD!" Rachel flung herself onto Finn (nearly sending him backwards) and kissed him with a fiery passion as everyone in the mission applauded.

…

Meanwhile, Quinn had been running in the rain to find the hotel Rachel was talking about. When she saw the Hotbox Theatre, she knew she was headed in the right direction. So she entered the first "fancy" hotel she came across and raced to the front desk. "I'm looking for someone who may have rented a room here."

"Name?" the desk clerk asked her.

"Quinn Fabray."

The clerk checked the record book. "Nope, sorry, we don't have anyone named with that name staying here."

"No, his name is-"

"Quinn?"

Quinn immediately turned around when she heard the voice. "Puck!" She hurried over to him ready to run into his arms, but stopped herself when she noticed he wasn't reacting. "Where are you going?"

Puck shrugged. "I dunno, I was thinking maybe back to Vegas."

"Alone?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So I don't want you to go."

"I have to, Quinn."

"Without me?"

There was a bout of silence before he let out a breath and told her, "Yes."

"Why?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Because I prayed, Quinn! I prayed to win that roll. I told God that the roll was for you and that if I won…" he trailed off.

She prompted for him to continue. "If you won…"

"…I promised to get out of your life forever."

"So you're leaving because you never want to see me again?"

"That's the problem, Quinn: I _want_ to see you again! I never want to stop seeing you, but I made a deal with God and it's probably not a good idea to welch on the Big Man upstairs."

"Why would you promise that?"

"Because you deserve everything, Quinn! You deserve better than some gambler like me. We both agree that I'm no good for you; you deserve a good guy! Someone nice, and honest, who works a real job, someone who didn't make a stupid bet just to meet you and then intentionally get you drunk in another country!"

"Why did you tell Finn you lost the bet?"

"How did you-"

"Why did you tell Finn you lost the bet?" she repeated the question.

"Because I did lose. I didn't get you to go with me to Cuba, some promise did. A promise that I prayed to make good on."

"Like any decent man would."

"It didn't seem right to say that I won because I didn't come through for you until after the fact."

"You still made good on your promise."

"A gambler never welches on a marker. That's what I am Quinn, a gambler. And the man you end up with _will not_ be a gambler. I can't change who I am."

"Well…" she took his hand in hers, "…then I'll just have to make the changes."

"You can't change me and I sure as hell don't want you to change who you are."

"Oh, I didn't say I was the one I was going to change. I just said I would have to make the changes."

"So what exactly are you going to make the changes on?"

"On a person who doesn't exist. I can search and search for the man I dreamt of marrying, but I'll never find him," she looked him in the eyes, "Because I already have," he looked away, "so I won't have to go looking if you stay here."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm-"

"I know that you're no good for me," she put her arms around his neck, "but you are good _to_ me, and that's what's most important. Did you ever stop and think that what you need is someone who's too good for _you_?"

"I don't deserve someone like that."

"Oh, I think you do. You may play on credit, but you never give yourself enough of it. You are a good man, Noah Puckerman; so much more than you realize."

"I'm a sinner."

"Who among us hasn't sinned?"

"The only reason we're here is because I made a bet. The very first time we met, I lied! And I can't guarantee that I'll ever be honest with you again."

"You're being honest now."

"Don't you get it, Quinn? You and me; we don't belong together."

She slinked her hand into his pocket, took out the pair of dice he had in them, blew on the dice, and started to shake them. "Wanna bet?" She rolled the dice and together they watched them land. "Three and a four, that's seven."

"Sure is."

She handed him the dice. "Now you roll. If it lands on a seven, then we're meant to be."

He looked at the dice, then at Quinn, then back at the dice. He then closed his hand over the dice. "You know: if you get a seven on the first roll, that's a good thing."

"It is?"

"Most instances it's an automatic win."

"And what is dice but a game of chance?"

"A fair point." Quinn gasped. "What?"

"I just broke a promise."

"What?"

"I vowed that when I meet the man I love, I wouldn't take a chance. Here I am with the man I love and I just took one of the biggest chances of my life to decide whether or not we should be together. It seems I've started to make the changes already." She looked at him. "What was it you told me? When you meet the woman you're meant to be with, you'll leave it up to chance and…"

He longingly gazed into her eyes. " _Chemistry_?"

She smiled back at him. "Yeah, _chemistry_."

Puck tossed the dice aside, took Quinn into his arms, and decided some things were worth the risk by kissing her with such a tender passion that the desk clerk was afraid he'd have to turn the fire hose on them. When the couple stopped for a breath, Puck gently brushed Quinn's wet hair back and quietly declared, "I love you."

"I love you," she breathed back as she initiated the next kiss. The next time they took a breather, Quinn propositioned him. "Marry me?"

"I thought you'd never ask." He scooped her into his arms and spun her around much to her delight. Then he carried her back to his hotel room completely ignoring the dice that had landed on a five and a two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I regret is that we never got to see the couples reunite in the movie or the stage show. So I decided as a special treat for my readers (and for myself if we're being honest), I would reunite our romantic leads for us. You're welcome.


	15. A Wedding! A Wedding!

Dressed in his "formal" formal-wear, Blaine Southstreet adjusted his polka-dot bowtie and supervised as two waiters each carried large cakes down Times Square. It was no secret these were wedding cakes—everyone was told Times Square was closed for a special occasion—but that didn't mean everyone knew who was getting married or why there were _two_ cakes. Curious crowds of onlookers gathered around the rope barriers as the cakes made their way toward a table at the end of a makeshift aisle. Already waiting at the aisle, Kurt—dressed in his personally stylized new mission uniform—gave the cakes a quick inspection, approved them, and stepped aside next to the other mission members so the cakes could be set on the table. Afterwards, Kurt gave a whistle as a cue to start the music.

Once the music started, the members of the wedding party began making their way down the "aisle". The first set consisted of fellow gamblers (also dressed in their "formal" formal-wear) coming down the aisle in pairs and carrying their hats as a sign of respect. This procession was led by Sammy the Mouth and Big Susie with the other "semi-reformed" gambling sinners behind them. Following the boys, were the girls. The Hotbox Girls to be exact. The four of them wore their " _Take Back Your Mink_ " costumes down the aisle and carried a small bouquet.

As this was happening, Blaine and Kurt had ushered in the truck that had driven the grooms. The two opened the back door and watched as a sharply dressed Puck was the first one out. After directing Puck where to stand, Kurt stayed to wait for Finn to come out. Kurt and Blaine waited for a nervous looking Finn to step out while fiddling with his polka-dot bowtie. And when Finn tried to get back in the truck, Kurt and Blaine prevented him from doing so and led Finn to his designated spot. Once that was done, Kurt made sure Blaine had everything situated as he proudly took his spot next to Puck.

When Blaine gave Finn a proud slap on the back, that's when he felt something underneath his suit. "What the-" Blaine discovered the source. "Racing reports? Really Finn?"

_Busted_. "I was gonna let Rachel pick," Finn clearly lied.

"Honestly, man," Blaine discarded the forms. "Speaking of Rachel," he gestured to the other end of the aisle where both of the brides were being escorted down the aisle by the same man who would be officiating; Rachel to Will's left and Quinn to Will's right. Both of the girls had chosen a new dress for the occasion. While it looked like Rachel had gone all out with the poofy off-white dress, the veil atop the equally poofy hair, and the seemingly massive bouquet, Quinn's taste was more modest. Quinn had chosen a simple cream-colored gown, had opted against the veil and wore her hair down, and carried a small, basic bouquet. Will, however, wore his uniform.

Not that it mattered; it all blended perfectly together as Will guided the brides to their respective grooms and stood behind the center podium while the brides interlocked their arms with their respective grooms. "Dearly beloved," Will began, "we are gathered here today to join these couples in the bonds of Holy Matrimony. As you all know, traffic is a nightmare around this time so I'll make sure to keep everything brief." He turned toward the first couple. "Quinn, do you take Puck to be your lawful wedded husband?"

Quinn nodded as she glanced at her guy. "I do."

"Puck, do you take Quinn to be your lawful wedded wife?"

Puck smiled at his doll. "You bet I do."

Will couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him as he turned toward Rachel and Finn. "Rachel, do you take Finn to be your lawful wedded husband?"

Rachel adoringly gazed at her crumb-dumb. "Oh, I do."

"Finn, do you take Rachel to be your lawful wedded wife?"

As the anxious Finn was about to answer, he let out a powerful, "AH-CHOO!"

Rachel squealed with glee. "That means he does!"

"He's gotta say it," Will reminded.

"I do, I do," Finn assured.

"Oh Finny-Kins," Rachel sidled up close to her man.

Will chuckled at that before continuing. "Then under the authority granted to me by the state, county, and city of New York, I hereby pronounce you men and wives!"

The crowds all cheered as the newly married grooms kissed their respective brides. After the kisses, Lieutenant Figgins, who had secured two police cars for this occasion, led the crew in charge of clearing a path for the couples to get into the cars. The first couple to the cars, were Rachel and Finn. Following a series of hugs, kisses, handshakes, and well-wishes from the wedding party, Rachel threw her bouquet into the crowd…

…where it was caught by General Pillsbury. "Oh!" Emma was genuinely surprised by this.

"Well, well, well, General," Will made his way over to her, "looks like you caught the bouquet." Emma blushed in response, but her blushing faded after Will gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek.

As the second couple got to the car, Puck did the customary waving and handshaking as Quinn blew kisses to certain members of the crowd. Before they got into their car, Quinn tossed her bouquet…

…that had been caught by Big Susie. "Ah-ah, no way," Big Susie roughly threw it into the crowd like a hot potato…

…only to have it hit Jacob on his head before bouncing into his arms. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

As the people in the streets amassed together to wave goodbye to the brides and grooms, Kurt and Blaine stood near the cakes clapping. "Hey," Blaine eyed the cakes, "should we save 'em all a piece?"

"It would be the nice thing to do," Kurt pointed out. "Of course, if we should save them pieces but the pieces accidentally get eaten by the public, would that be such a crime?"

"It would not."

"It is good cake though."

"That it is." The brief lull in the conversation ended when Blaine admitted, "I still cannot believe Finn Detroit and Puck Puckerman are married men."

"Well Finn I can believe, he and Rachel had been engaged for fourteen years."

"A fair point."

"And I figured something special would happen when I first saw Puck mixing with Quinn. It was only a matter of time. After all, it is something you see everywhere."

"The guy reaching for stars in the sky…"

"…the John waiting in the rain for the Jane…"

"…the guy paying rent on a place that could flatten the Taj Mahal."

"See, I wish more men appreciated things like that."

"We're a rare pair, Kurt."

"That we are, Blaine."

"Either way…"

"...whether it's sad or it's funny…"

"…the guy's only doing it for some doll," they finished together.


End file.
